My Heart's Been Wasted On You
by MyNameIsDoodle
Summary: When a heart is broken can it ever be fixed? Kenny's asking himself the same question. Will someone fix it for him or will he have to do it himself? SLASH. ON HIATUS.
1. Your Mistake, Made My World Crash Down

**Kenny's POV**

The song was left on a loop; the ending fading out into the start. Over and over again. I lay flat on my back, my lips moving minutely to the words, as if I was belting the lyrics out of my own heart. I hadn't moved from my room since yesterday and I had no intention of doing so for a while. It was as if the hands of my bedroom clock had been glued in place to taunt me, reminding me that the day still hadn't ended. My day now consisted of fifteen hours sleep. If you can call it that. I tossed and turned, feeling physically sick the moment my consciousness even brushed against the memory of what had happened. I would have to literally shake my head to force the thoughts away and squeeze my eyes tighter still, mentally screaming for the dreams to come take me away.

My mom had gingerly knocked on my door, unable to shift it since I had blocked it with my chest of drawers, locking the door shut to keep the outside world at bay. At least for the time being while I got my head sorted. She'd called my name and feebly pleaded with me to come out and at least talk to her. She would usually give up after five minutes. Dad tried once, banging on the door and hollering at me to get the fuck out of my room to explain what had happened. He even made up some bull about looking bad to the other parents for letting his son skip school. If he cared what the neighbours thought, he'd have stopped drinking long ago and wouldn't hit my mom in public. He'd stop the police cars from coming round every other day, he'd not slap me around the face in the store...he wouldn't sell drugs in our living room. The family home was now a store for addicts. They'd sometimes speak to us. Mom would send us out of the house, shoving a tattered $5 bill in our hands. Little could be done with $5 but we usually obeyed. I stayed behind sometimes...

None of this had hurt me that bad. None of them had broken my heart and made me act this way. I didn't skip school as often as I used to, school became my escape from this shithole. It was my only way out, other than the alternative of course. The alternative option became more and more tempting by the moment.

I know what you're wondering. What could've been that bad? What would cause a seventeen-year-old boy to want to end his life so badly? What could be worse than having a drug dealing father and a shitty lifestyle? I'll tell you what. Heart break. Typical huh? People always try to comfort you by telling you that life isn't about getting laid or having a boyfriend/girlfriend, when in reality, it is. What are people constantly talking about? What film or book doesn't have love involved? Seriously. I can't escape it. Love is an element that takes over our lives and it took over mine. To think, only last week I was over the moon. My life didn't seem so bad...it seemed amazing. It seemed worth it. Just to have a hand to hold, fingers to intertwine my own with, lips to explore and eyes to dive into whenever it pleased me...it completed me. But now it was taken away and the way it was taken, had hurt. Hurt much more than this person simply telling me that they no longer loved me.

They were using me. The entire time. The whole time they were holding my hand and resting their head on my shoulder, the three months I was inhaling their scent as if it were an antidote to a poison that had been rotting my life away until it seemed almost worthless...it was all a lie. False words being breathed in my ear. False utterances as we embraced when it got cold. False kisses that you swore meant everything to you. False smiles when I spilled my hearts' content out to you. Did he even feel guilty? Did he stop for a single moment and thought: '_**Hey...this isn't right...I shouldn't lie anymore. **_Three months. 2 191.45319 hours. 131 487.192 minutes. 7 889 231.49 seconds. All that time...but he didn't even think to speak up? To tell me that he didn't feel that way? Not a single word...just all these lies and fake feelings that he acted out like a pro every single day we spent together. He deserved an award...anything to show him that I was convinced. I was certain that everything that was being said was true.

"Kenny..." a deep sigh. "I can't be with you anymore..."

I snatched my pillow from under my head and pressed it against my face, closing my eyes tightly as the tears began to cascade down my cheeks freely, no restraint. My heart clenched. I choked; inhaling sharply that sent a searing pain ripping down my chest. I trembled as the scene replayed right before my eyes, the pain never easing, only getting rawer...

* * * *

It was mid January and the air wasn't as cold as it used to be. It was light and crisp, not making me shiver in the slightest but not exactly the type of weather where you'd tear off your coat and allow the sun to paint your skin a rich brown. In fact, I don't think I'd ever been tanned in my life. In South Park, where it was always cold and blanketed by a white carpet, there was rarely days of scorching sunshine. It's weird thinking back now, how fresh everything is in my mind. I recall every single detail; the way the clouds moved slowly over my head and I remember thinking: "Isn't it strange that we're moving but yet we don't feel it?"

I was walking next to my old friend, Stan. I use the term good since I couldn't exactly call him my best friend, since that wouldn't be correct. I'd like to think that Stan and I were best friends. But in actuality, Stan was 100% devoted to Kyle. I didn't resent him for this fact though; the pair was together since they were practically babies. I met them in preschool and then came Cartman. I would try to ignore the odd conversations that Stan and Kyle would have, bringing up times that occurred at a sleepover that only the pair witnessed. Whenever I'd ask if they wanted to see a movie, they'd have already seen it together and would often see it a second time for me. But this was the norm for me. It'd been that way since we were tiny and it was that way now. But still, Stan was a good friend. He was easy to talk to, friendly, supportive. He was everyone's voice of reason and would be the one to calm everyone down whenever a fight or argument broke out. Most of the time, Stan would be in the middle of Kyle and Cartman, an understanding expression on his face as he tried to see it from both side's point of views, never warming to one side rather than the other (although most of the time he would secretly agree with Kyle).

Not much had changed about Stan since we were eight-years-old in elementary school. All four of us practically made a pact to get into the same high school. Amazingly, we all did. Even Cartman (much to Kyle's dismay). Stan wasn't in any of my other classes other than English. I was good at English, I got it. As for Stan, he seemed to be in all the top sets along with Kyle. I was only top in English, in the rest I was pretty much average along with Cartman. And trust me, even Cartman's impressions of people got old after a while. Stan was a little taller, not as tall as he used to seem though. Around 5'8 and he was constantly stuck in his worn blue jeans, trainers that he'd had since forever and a similar brown jacket to the one he used to wear when we were kids. I was the tallest now. I was once the small, petite boy. Now, I was 5'11. Tallest out of them all.

"So, did you manage the homework okay?" Stan asked, tucking his hands deep into his pockets, his cheeks a bright pink from the nipping wind that I seemed immune to.

"Kind of..." I replied, concealing a smile to a secret joke. Stan raised his eyebrows knowingly, a smile spreading across his lips also. "I forgot..." I admitted after a moment's pause. He grinned, looking down at his feet as he walked next to me, shaking his head slowly. He closed one of his eyes as he looked up at me once more.

"You're hopeless, Ken," he teased. "Fine; once more, I'll be a hero and let you copy out some of the key points in my work."

"Thank you!" I sang, throwing my arms out and flinging them around him, nearly lifting him straight off his feet, holding him tightly. "Love you, Stan."

I flushed. I guess you can tell the way I talk about Stan, that I sort of have a thing for him. He was always so nice to me; he wasn't like Kyle who threw a hello in my direction simply because I was there. Stan would be the one to ask where I was if I was absent, he'd be the one to drop down by my house if I was off sick and he always remembered my birthday. Sometimes, I would notice on my cards on Christmas and my birthday, the names Kyle and Cartman squished onto the end, thin letters forced together so they would fit. Didn't help that they were written in Stan's handwriting.

Stan laughed, prying my arms from around his neck. I kept my eyes locked to his blue ones, not dropping my gaze for a moment. I wasn't gay or anything. I was bi curious if anything. It was just Stan. The way my heart hiccupped around him, the way I blushed whenever I said something like "I love you" or "you know you love me". If I said that to Kyle or Cartman, nothing would happen. I'd be the same. But not with Stan.

"Hey, homos,"

I closed my eyes as I mentally cringed. I forced my eyes open as I turned my head to see Cartman and Kyle walking over to us. I guessed from Kyle's enraged expression that Cartman hadn't been cutting him any slack the entire walk here. Kyle was catching up to me in height; he was around 5'10 and had finally been able to join the school basketball team like he'd always wanted. The only thing that had grown about Cartman was his gut. He was cutting down though on the food. I suppose he kind of stopped believing in the 'big-boned' bull that his mother had been pulling for years.

"Ha, ha," I stuck my tongue out at him, folding my arms firmly around my chest, kicking up the snow with the toe of my shoe. I subconsciously side stepped a few inches away from Stan.

"I can't believe you made me walk with him all the way up to the bus stop, Stan," Kyle didn't once lower his voice despite the fact the person he was talking about was within three yards away from him. "I get a knock on the door this morning and find that tub of lard there!"

"Don't call me fat, butt fucker!" Cartman barked, marching over to Kyle as he jabbed out an accusing finger.

"Sorry, Kyle," Stan said, blatant to Cartman's reaction. "Kenny asked me to stay over his last night. I was gonna call but I thought it wouldn't matter."

I saw the hurt flash across Kyle's eyes. He didn't seem to notice the one that danced in mine. Kyle acted as if the pair of them was dating or something. He was always on Stan's ass whenever he was over someone else's house or visiting a friend other than him. I'd asked Stan to stay over mine at a random whim. I'd contemplated the idea of asking him for weeks but never had the courage to do so. Last night, I came up with the idea of having trouble with my math and inviting him over. Stan came over and I played the dummy until it was late enough for me to suggest that he stayed the night. Stan didn't protest; he called his mom telling her he'd be at mine for the night and he borrowed some of my pyjamas. They were my only pair but he didn't notice that I was sleeping in my boxers and the same shirt I'd worn all day.

The bus rolled up and we all piled on. As usual, Kyle claimed the seat next to Stan before Stan even sat down. I was stuck behind them with Cartman next to me, being pressed up against the window since Cartman seemed set on the idea of putting his chair in between us to prevent me from hitting on him. Even if I was gay, I wouldn't go for Cartman. Never ever, ever.

I would be right in presuming that you believe the person, who had broken my heart, was Stan. That suddenly, Stan decided he wouldn't mind playing gay for a while. But it wasn't Stan. I wish it was now...I wish that he'd sprung it on me and that I'd said yes. And no, it wasn't Cartman. Let me reiterate, never ever, ever. There's only one person left really. Right? You've got it...


	2. Tied

**Kenny's POV**

Kyle Broflovski. He wasn't my best friend; he wasn't the friend that I would run to immediately whenever I was in a time of need, he wasn't the one who wrote me birthday and Christmas cards, he wasn't the one who got me amazing presents and called me practically every night. If anything, we were just friends. We rarely spoke and when we did speak, it was awkward. With Stan and even Cartman, whenever it was only the two of us, we'd still find things to say. With Kyle, it was silence and short sentences that were mumbled under our breaths. Don't get me wrong; Kyle is my friend and he has been there for me. I'm not knocking that. He did come over my house sometimes and he did invite me to go see a movie with him and Stan sometimes. He was...Kyle was the "sometimes-friend". It was acknowledged that we were friends but it was rarely shown.

So when this occurred, I did not see it. Not from a mile off. In a way, I always felt that Kyle didn't like me that much. He laughed at my jokes and waved at me whenever we passed outside of school, but it wasn't like I was constantly over his house having dinner with his family or anything like that. That was Stan. So this came out of the blue. I was waiting by the main entrance at lunch, waiting for the others to leave their lessons and meet me. I hated being alone; I was never the kind of person who would happily spend their lunch times standing alone and eating their lunch on an empty table. I needed people around me to feel comfortable; even if I didn't say a word, it made me content. Whenever I was alone, I felt rigid. People talked about me a lot, you see. A lot of rumours floated around the corridors and would usually reach my ears last. Even Stan, Cartman and Kyle would know what people were saying but didn't want to tell me. I wouldn't say anything though. A lot of people liked to shit stir about my family and how I lived. They liked to make snide jokes about me living in a shed or something, sleeping on a dirty mattress on the floor in the same room as my parents.

Just to set things straight. I didn't sleep on the floor. And I certainly didn't live in a shed. My parents had three other children not long after I'd turned 10. They seemed to stick with the name-beginning-with-K-thing since my sisters were called Kate and Kim, my brother called Kurt. They must've assumed this was clever or something, although it was ridiculously stupid to me. So now, I had Kevin, Karen, Kate, Kim and Kurt. We were able to have a small extension on the house when Dad was working for a while, so there were now three bedrooms rather than just the two. Although, Dad got fired last week and now, we were cutting back on everything. But since when did that become a joke to someone? It sickened me how people at school would waste their own time just to come up with hurtful, spiteful jokes about my family. Anyway...

"Hey, Kenny,"

I looked up to see Kyle standing right there in front of me, a strange kind of look on his face. It was like he knew something I didn't, a newfound discovery swimming in the depths of his olive green eyes that he was eager to share with me. I straightened up a little, wondering whether he'd come straight out with it or he intended on making me work for the final result. He appeared nervous, digging the toe of his shoe into the thin powdery snow beneath our feet.

"Hey, Kyle," I returned shortly, not planning on bothering him with small talk. "What's up, man? Why so tense?"

"Kenny..." Kyle chewed his bottom lip, a twitch at the corner of his lips. He suddenly thrust his hand forward and clutched mine, knotting our fingers together like two pieces of fine string. Before I could press, he was pulling me away from the entrance to the school and was leading me down to the farthest end of the parking lot, away from prying eyes that seemed more perplexed than I. We stopped in a secluded corner, hidden from the view of all of the other students and teachers. Kyle looked like he was going to burst; his cheeks had turned from baby pink to deep scarlet.

"Kyle, what?" I asked after a long, drawn out pause that was probably down to him trying to add dramatic effect...or trying to piss me off.

But I didn't get a verbal answer. The few inches between us were gone within seconds, leaving no space between either of us anymore. His face was inches from mine and he held my chin tilting upwards, his fingertips lightly pressing against my jawbone. Our eyes met. I never realised how beautiful his eyes were. A dark green that was surrounded by feathery brushes of light brown; like someone had originally painted it green but spilt droplets of brown into the equation. Kyle pulled down my hood and, without saying a single word and without any warning, our lips met.

I'd never kissed anyone before. Despite all of the rumours, I'd never had an actual girlfriend or boyfriend before. I was a virgin, although everyone thought otherwise. I always imagined my first kiss would be awkward, the other coaching me how to do it until I finally got the gist of it and could do it perfectly by myself. I always imagined it wet and that I would be fully conscious of the fact someone else's tongue was invading my mouth. But this kiss was nothing like that. Kyle's tongue didn't invade my mouth at all; it was invited in. I craved more the moment our lips touched. I inhaled sharply and forgot who it was for a moment, my eyes closing as if I was fast asleep, dreaming a perfect dream. My arms wound around his neck and his around my waist, squeezing me and pulling me in. I gasped into his mouth as our warm, humid breath mingled. I tasted a sweet warmness and I smiled a little, running my tongue alongside his. The world around us was a backdrop. We were the masterpiece in the frame that people gathered to see, we were the focus and the world was just there to fill the empty spaces. In all honesty, I didn't even need that backdrop anymore. Kyle and I could've taken over the entire frame for all I cared; I didn't need my family, I didn't need Stan, and I certainly didn't need Cartman. My heart was like thunder in my chest, and Kyle was the soothing, cool rain that would simmer me down. We clashed and we worked, we worked so amazingly well and I didn't want our lips to ever be apart again.

The oxygen tasted bitter and sour since it was fresh and didn't belong to Kyle. I still held onto his jacket, gazing sleepily into his face. My eyes were half-closed but I still saw the smile on his mouth as he panted, struggling to accept the new air as well. He reached out and touched my cheek, pressing his forehead against mine, the tips of our noses touching ever so slightly. Kyle's breath warmed my upper lip and seeped into my own mouth. I savoured the taste and closed my eyes completely as he kissed my eyelids.

"Will you promise never to break my heart?" Kyle breathed into my ear, dropping his forehead from mine as he rested it on my shoulder instead. I locked my arms around his back, my fingers digging into his jacket to tighten the embrace.

"Promise never to break mine," I said into his shoulder, my voice muffled but he must've hurt me since he kissed the side of my neck.

"Impossible..." he promised. Those words tightened our hold and we kissed once more as if to seal the envelope that contained the words themselves, keeping them there for always, never to be opened and set free. I was in love.

Kyle Broflovski. He was my first love, my first everything...and the first, always leave the deepest of markings...


	3. Nothing Could Mess This Up

**Kenny's POV**

**January 25****th**

Our relationship was a delicious secret, a secret that I held very close to my chest like armour. Knowing that somebody loved me, knowing that someone adored me and thought I was the world to them...it made everything else in the world not matter. Nothing else mattered; not the stupid rumours, not the eyes that stared after our intertwined fingers, not the shitty dinners and not the shouts that bounced off the windows and echoed within the four walls of my bedroom. As long as Kyle loved me, nothing else was important. I ensured that every spare moment I had that I'd spend it with him; I would stay over his house most nights, returning to my own house only in the early hours to get some fresh clothes before Kyle even stirred. And if I slept in too late, he'd lend me some of his clothes or we'd just cuddle in his bed. No one knew. Kyle's mother assumed we'd just gotten close and suddenly discovered how much we had in common. My parents didn't even notice I was out the house. Stan and Cartman were a little surprised, but, same as Kyle's mom didn't jump to any conclusions and, even if they did, I didn't care. The only witnesses to our love were curious gazes of strangers and the four wonderful walls of Kyle's room that blocked the world from us. It was like our Great Wall of China; it kept everyone else out and only let us in. Our perfect sanctuary, where everything was clear and made sense. There was no shouting, there were no rules, and there was nobody but us.

It was January 25th, which would make it our first week together. It's so weird; I'd always scoffed teenagers who drabbled on for hours over partners they'd only known for two days. I'd always laughed at them, saying how stupid Romeo was for proposing to Juliet after knowing her for only one day. It didn't make sense to me...back then. Now I knew. I knew why Juliet said yes. I knew why they declared their love. I knew why they killed themselves although they'd only been together for minor days. They didn't need all the answers; they didn't need to know every nook and cranny of one another. They just...they felt it...like how I felt it for Kyle.

Today, Kyle and I had agreed to spend the night together. We weren't going to be one of those couples that celebrated every single week as an anniversary...well; I wouldn't make a big deal about it. I would probably make a big deal about it inside my head and would probably circle the day on my calendar or something. But not to Kyle. I don't want to risk ruining it; spoiling it with my devotion. It was my first love; he was the first person who'd ever showed me the slightest bit of attention. One minute, I was crushing on Stan and the next, Kyle had kissed me and everything changed. Stan was just a crush. Kyle...Kyle was for real. I loved Kyle. I knew it with every fibre of my being, I felt it in the tips of my fingers and I wanted to shout it to the world. But we'd agreed to keep it secret for a while. Our little, private, amazing secret.

"Kenny..." Kyle mewled, reluctantly breaking our kiss as he glanced up at the clock in the gym changing rooms. He looked back to me, licking his lips nervously, his eyes every now and then darting to my lips and then back to my eyes. "Class is going to start in a minute..."

"Skip it," I begged, kissing his forehead softly.

Kyle giggled, holding my arms as he feebly attempted at pushing me away. "Kenny, I have gym next. The changing rooms will be full in a minute." Nevertheless, even as he was saying this, his hold only got tighter on me, pulling me even closer so our hips were pressing against each other, our chests together, hearts beating in frantic union.

I admitted mentally that he was correct and that we'd have to cover our tracks better if we were keen on keeping this between us for a while longer. I exhaled and met his hungry gaze. I caved and kissed him again, my hands exploring his body as I did so. Kyle's body was like my own, private bible. I found peace of mind, and it was sacred to me. His body was my voice of reason, and I wanted to keep him under my pillow at all times so that if I ever felt lonely or afraid, I could always reach for him and find comfort in his kind words.

I felt cold now his hands were absent from my body. I even shivered a little as we went our separate ways. I made my way toward English while he waited outside the changing room doors as if he'd been waiting innocently for class to begin. My skin still tingled from where he'd touched me and I could still taste him in my mouth. My heartbeat hadn't at all relaxed since our kissing spree, and it didn't seem able to, even when I sat down in my usual seat in class next to Stan. He stared at my flushed face, which only made my face hotter.

"Kenny, have you been running a marathon or something?" Stan remarked. "And where were you and Kyle at recess today? I looked all over for you..."

"I was revising in Math," I lied easily, the words falling from my lips with such coolness and ease that Stan didn't even bother pushing the matter further although he didn't look utterly convinced.

That day in English, we were studying poetry. To be more specific, we had to write our own versions of Shakespeare's Sonnet 130. I wrote it up without even thinking. The pen met the page and didn't stop until the last full stop at the end of the piece. When I gave it a second glance, I hastily changed all the 'he's to 'she's and all the 'him's to 'her's. Stan was sitting there for ages, tapping his page with the end of his pen, every so often looking over at mine, frowning and then turning back to his own.

"Damn, Kenny," Stan enthused as he scanned mine for the umpteenth time. "How do you write stuff like that?"

I shrugged and struggled not to smile at my own, private joke. I felt like Shakespeare and Kyle was my Hathaway, giving me this constant inspiration that fuelled all of my writing. Mr. Cunningham paused by our table. He frowned slightly at Stan's one line that read something like: "You have pretty eyes", and then walked over to glimpse over my shoulder. He stopped for a moment and I felt suddenly sweaty and anxious. I felt uncomfortable and I fidgeted in my seat uneasily.

"Wonderful piece, Kenny," Mr. Cunningham said thoughtfully, picking up my paper to look a little closer, as if he'd misread something and interoperated it as something beautiful when really it was a sexual innuendo and piss take. He seemed surprised that he found none. "Keep it up." He put my work back down before me and I swallowed the rising lump in my throat, smiling gingerly at him.

When the bell rang, I felt a surge of relief. Double English was over. My day was over. I was free to go home. I could get my stuff together. I could make up a lame excuse to my Mom while she was cutting the girls' hair. Telling her I won't be home till very late. Because I was going to be out with Kyle, my boyfriend. I literally scraped all of my work into my open back, zipped it up jerkily and rose to my feet, ready to sprint out of the door when...

"Kenny, can I ask you something," Stan called after my retreating back, his hand reaching out to touch my shoulder to grab my attention in case I hadn't heard him. I hesitated and slowed down a little, flashing him a quick, crooked smirk.

"Sure," I answered, running a hand through my blond hair as I looked down at him. "What's up?"

Stan shifted his rucksack on his shoulder in discomfort, as if he'd half expected me to give an excuse to why I couldn't stay and answer his question. He took my arm and pulled me to one side, looking down at his feet.

"Um...Kenny...what's going on with you and Kyle?"

"Ask again later," I teased, laughing a little. "Gotta shake me right, Stan, to get the right answer..."

"Don't piss about, Kenny," Stan snapped, his blue eyes meeting mine for the first time. He blushed and looked away again, chewing his bottom lip. "I mean...are you two..." I cringed. "Best friends now or something?"

I nearly fainted with this lightness that I suddenly felt, the lightness of relief that he still remained oblivious to the fact his friends were now dating. I grinned and he blinked several times in shock to my reaction.

"No, man," I reassured him, putting my right hand in my jacket pocket. "You know what a swot Kyle is in Math. He's been helping me out, is all. I'd have asked you but you kinda suck at Math too. No offense. You're still Kyle's best friend. No worries."

Stan seemed to feel the same lightness since he seemed to flop from the tense stance he was in a few minutes ago. He scratched his black hair shyly, his face blossoming a delicate peach.

"Oh man," he laughed. "I sounded like such an ass then. Um," he looked sheepish once more. "Is it cool then if I hang out with you guys then on your study meetings?" the lightness turned to a heavy lead. "I mean, I could always do with a bit of tutoring myself. You guys won't mind, right?"

Bad idea to pull the Math card. I could've pulled any other lesson card out of the box, trust me to use the one that both I and Stan have a little trouble with. Now Kyle and I would have to share our picnics with Stan and have to visit the bathroom sporadically every five minutes or so just so we could have a few minutes alone. Stan wasn't a moron; he'd catch on sooner or later. And when he did, how would he react?

"Um...sure, why not?" I masked my sudden unnerve with a queasy half smile. "I'll get Kyle to get everything planned up with you."

Stan was beaming from ear to ear as he left the classroom. It took me a moment to settle my churning stomach before I could leave and head on home to make up some bull story about my whereabouts tonight...

* * * *

The sky above us was like black water, settled and untouched by anything, the supple surface never broken by sharp movements or other forms. Splashes of dark purple and lighter shades of blue smeared across the sky, the stars like specks of peering light through a tear in the flawless blanket. The moon was a misty silhouette hung up in a corner by an invisible string, glowing like the aura around a lit candle. The air was cool and I would've been trembling from the cold if it wasn't for the radiating warmth from Kyle's body as he lay next to me.

"I feel like one of those lame couples in the movies..." he whispered, his green eyes standing out in the darkness as he looked at me. "Sitting here watching the stars..." he drifted off as I pressed my fingertip to his lips.

"Nothing lame about it," I corrected, sitting up a little so I could look straight down at his face. "We're not admiring the sky...we're not thinking how beautiful it all is and that the world is 100% right...because it's not. I'm just enjoying my time with you..." I kissed his cheek and he breathed against my neck, making the hair on the back of it stand on end.

"That was so cheesy," Kyle said gently in my ear, his body moulding against mine perfectly as I held him.

"I'm sorry..." I began to apologize, fearing that I'd said too much.

"Don't be you goof," Kyle cut me short, pulling away. He touched the back of my neck, his thumb stroking lightly against my cheekbone. I caught my breath. "I meant it was cheesy in a good way..."

We kissed, the stars acting as our only witnesses. I'm pretty sure if the stars could speak, they'd be sending their blessings. Our love wasn't tainted like people had tried to convince us for years; our love was as pure as any other because the feelings were the same. Everything I had for Kyle was the same that I would've held for a girl. Our bodies were the same but since when did that become the root of love? I knew right at that moment that I didn't care who knew. I didn't care if Stan found out, I didn't care if Cartman spread it around the school, and I didn't care about how my parents would react. I didn't even care if Mrs. Broflovski found out and banned me from seeing Kyle...because I knew that I wouldn't let something like that get in my way. No one and nothing was going to prevent this. As long as we loved each other...everything would be okay...


	4. Sting Of Jealousy

**Sorry for the delayed update. Thanks for the reviews, keep them coming.**

**Kenny's POV**

**January 26****th**

Struggling with Math was definitely a bad card to pull because the next day, when I'd woken up tingling from head to foot with this newfound warmth, I'd found a text on my phone from Stan which read something like this:

_Kenny, dude I'm struggling soooo bad with this math thingy. _

_I don't wanna be a pain in the ass but could you and Kyle help me out? _

_Today after school maybe? Lemme know, man. _

"Fuck..." I grumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes shut as if to fend off irritation. I didn't want to be angry at Stan; he was just being naive and had blindly accepted my poor excuse of studying...he saw this as a way to get back with his best friend and hopefully gain a little bit more of Kyle's company again. I mean, the poor guy must be stressing over this. I could imagine him over-thinking it all in his room and then asking his mom what he should do as a last resort. It made me feel overly guilty if anything and made me want to enlighten him rather than leave him in the dark.

But Kyle didn't seem ready to explain his feelings yet and I wasn't going to be the one to give him the shove and be the one taking the heat for it. This was my first relationship, and it was amazing and spectacular. Why would I want to ruin that over a little guilt? So what if Stan felt a bit of the cold shoulder for a while? I've felt it since we were kids. He could stand it for a while longer, right?

"Who text you?" Kyle said groggily, surprising me since it was 5:30am and he usually needed persuading to get up for school...which I was happy to supply since it allowed me to use my imagination.

"Stan," I replied reluctantly, first considering lying so to prevent Kyle from re-thinking the whole secret thing, and possibly the whole relationship thing. "He wants to study with us after school today..."

"What?" Kyle groaned loudly, resting his chin on my shoulder and wrapping his arms around my waist. "But tonight we were gonna..."

"I know, I know," I cut him off, feeling my annoyance with Stan worsen at the thought of those plans being cancelled because of him. "But he'd probably only be over for an hour or so and then he can go and we can do whatever the hell we want." The 'whatever the hell we want' part made me a little lightheaded; endless possibilities swirling through my mind with dizzying speed. I had to prevent my imagination from running any further in fear of Kyle noticing a change in me physically...and in case you haven't grasped what I'm getting at, I mean getting a little turned on.

Kyle apparently didn't have a dirty mind like I did and just took my 'whatever the hell we want' as something like scrabble. He sighed heavily and started to get up, his arms slipping away from me, which made my skin protest as the chill of loneliness crept in. I lay there for a while longer, picking at his mattress and trying not to look at him as he disappeared to the bathroom for a few minutes.

I stared for a moment or two at the text Stan had sent me, reading into every letter and trying to interpret what he truly meant by this text. My stomach began to churn nervously as I remembered how I used to imagine Stan and I together...how every part of me would turn to lava the moment we set eyes on one another, whenever he'd smile at me. All those warm, doting feelings had suddenly turned slightly bitter, and I was feeling frustrated that he wanted to spend time with his best friend, who just so happened to now be my boyfriend. The speed of how everything was changing right now startled me a smidge; after we'd kissed it was kind of quietly agreed that we were now boyfriend and boyfriend.

"Fine, he can come over, but only for an hour or two," Kyle said, returning to the bedroom after what felt like forever in the bathroom. "No longer."

I felt the need to ask why it bothered him so much, why he didn't want Stan over for that long and why he was so reluctant to spend any time with anyone else other than myself. But it was much to flattering, and the more I thought about it, the more excited I became that someone really, REALLY wanted me all for themselves and didn't want anyone else but me. That was the first time that'd ever happened to me in my life and a small guilt, a small concern was nothing compared to the feeling of being wanted.

"Thanks, Kenny," Stan said to me during English, the only time we were truly alone.

I blinked, casting him an uncertain sideways glance as I tried to work out whether or not this was sarcasm or if he was implying at something else. He looked awful; his skin was chalkier than usual and he had a few bags under his eyes. Some nagging thought told me that he hadn't been sleeping well due to being worried about Kyle...but I shook it off, forcing a half grin.

"Pfft, for what?" I asked, trying to speak above the loud, enthusiastic chatter of the classroom as everyone took advantage of one the rare moments when Mr. Cunningham left us to our own devises whilst he talked to another teacher. "For being so amazingly handsome? For helping you write that poem? No offense, dude, but I think Shakespeare shed a little tear when he heard you read your poem aloud this morning."

Stan appeared to be stung at first by this remark but it dimmed almost instantly, and a smile flitted across his face. "I wouldn't say _**amazingly**_ handsome, Ken. Maybe reasonably decent looking, but nothing more and nothing less. You're like a kinda pretty moth in a butterfly house."

I narrowed my eyes. "Quite poetic of you, Stan. You sure you suck at English? I think you failed so badly on your poem 'cos you wanted an excuse to hear my sexy voice."

Stan snorted and gave me a brisk shove that nearly knocked me sideways off of my chair but, thanks to my awesome balance, I remained upright, proving him a weakling.

"So, seriously, what you thanking me for?" I inquired, lowering my voice as Mr. Cunningham returned at the noise died down immediately. I don't know why though, he blatantly knew everyone had burst into talk the instant he left the room, and his swooping gaze told us that before he turned around to scrub the lesson's objectives off of the white board and replace them with new ones.

"For...for...for letting me study with you and Kyle today," Stan stammered, keeping his head low and avoiding my prying stare. "I know its kinda lame but I miss hanging out with you guys...a lot. I feel a little left out, is all. I was left walking home with Cartman yesterday and it kinda sucked not having you guys there. Where did you guys go anyway?" He kept saying 'you guys' as if to strain how isolated he was feeling and it made me feel worse.

"Oh...um...sorry, man. We were gonna meet you; you went to the bathroom and Kyle came early and said he really needed some extra help with English so I offered to help," I lied, my words tumbling out like wasps, each lie stinging just as bad as the last. I shrugged. "I couldn't find you so I just agreed. Sorry."

Stan seemed perplexed at first but just accepted it, nodding and raising his head, embarrassing moment over and done with. He continued to scribble on his poem, and I on mine, but I was just writing over everything I'd already written. Now I felt sick with remorse and I felt like writing him a note at the bottom of my work telling him everything; at least he couldn't exclaim or shout at me in the middle of class and then he would understand it wasn't anything he'd done.

The bell rang like a hideously harsh voice screeching: "TIME TO LEAVE, TIME TO ENDURE AN AWKWARD FAKE-STUDY SESSION WITH YOUR SECRET-BOYFRIEND AND EX-CRUSH-WHO-FEELS-LEFT-OUT-AND-DOESN'T-KNOW-WHY. Stan and I took our time getting up, neither of us noticing the other had slowed down too as we scraped our papers and books into our bags and zipped them up simultaneously. We left the classroom side-by-side, mumbling a return 'bye' to Mr. Cunningham, who was cursing at the mess made by the students.

Kyle met us outside at the entrance, looking equally as anxious as I did, and most likely Stan too. He gave a recognisably fake smile and a small wave that both Stan and I returned with equally as forced smiles.

"Hey, Stan, hey Kenny," Kyle greeted us, trying to sound bright and chirpy. "Heard you need a little help in Math too Stan, huh?"

Stan nodded shortly, trying to return to the enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'm doing really shitty right now. Mrs Hayworth says if I don't improve, I might be knocked down a set."

"Dude!" Kyle's reaction was not faked; he was genuinely shocked at this revelation. "You should've told me!"

"Yeah well...it's embarrassing," Stan said quietly, flushing a little, seeming encouraged by Kyle's concern.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, Stan," Kyle assured him. "Tell me what you're stuck on and we'll go over it, won't we, Kenny?"

I nodded and that was the last time I was invited to speak the entire walk home. It felt like old times, as if mine and Kyle's relationship had been some daydream and I had fallen back into reality, a reality that felt like a punch in the gut and a flick to the head that said: Earth to Kenny! Earth sucked. Kyle and Stan were talking like two old ladies on the bus; nonstop and paying no heed to anyone else who was tagging along. I toddled after them, hands buried into pockets and, for the first time since Kyle and I had become an item, I drew my hood over my head, drowning in my solitude once more.

"Man, I get it the way you explain it, Kyle. Mrs Hayworth makes it so complicated and sound like rocket science rather than an equation."

I rolled my eyes, and of course it went unnoticed. I sat on Kyle's bed while Stan and my boyfriend sat on the floor, Kyle pointing at a question and Stan stroking his chin for a moment before clicking and giving an answer, which turned out to be correct. Woopty doo. None of these questions they were doing, none of these subjects had been covered in my class. I felt like clearing my throat and reminding them I was in the bottom set, not top, but I decided I'd let Stan have Kyle's direct attention for a while.

Stan didn't leave after one or two hours, not even three. It was 10:48pm by the time Kyle's mom came up and asked if Stan was alright getting home. Of course, Kyle quickly offered Stan to stay over and Sheila took him downstairs to borrow the phone to call his parents, leaving Kyle and I alone for the first time that day since we'd woken up.

The moment our eyes met, he seemed to understand what he'd done and clapped a hand to his mouth.

"Aw, Kenny I'm so sorry," he gushed, sweeping over onto the bed and clasping my hands in his. "I kinda forgot...got caught up in revision. Um...tomorrow. Tomorrow it'll just be us two I promise you."

I felt the urge to be spiteful and snap 'forget it', snatching my hands from his and storming home. This kind of act was what was expected of Cartman, and it stunned me how tempted I was by this idea. I was jealous and I knew it, but didn't want to accept it. The desire for Kyle to feel guilty, the need for him to ensure never to make the same mistake made me contemplate this, but one look into his eyes told me how truly sorry he was.

I forgave him and offered to go home to give him and Stan some friend time. Kyle beamed at me and thanked me for being so understanding, leaning in to give me a kiss, the one thing I'd waited all day for, only to pull away last minute because of Stan's thumping feet on the stairs, shortly followed by him bursting into the room saying his parents said he could stay.

When he saw me getting up and getting my things, he frowned. "Aren't you staying, Ken?"

I gave one of Kyle's poor forced smiles. "Nah, my mom wants me home early today."

Stan checked the clock on Kyle's wall just in case he'd read the time wrong. When he saw how late it was, his frown deepened. "Nearly 11 o'clock is early?"

I felt my face heat up. "Yeah, well earlier than usual. I don't get home until one usually 'cos I...um...go to the bar with my dad and pick him up."

This wasn't necessarily a lie; most nights my mom would come in at one or two in the morning and tearfully ask me to get my now disorderly father home. I would comply simply to put her sobs to rest because whenever she cried, I found myself near tears myself and I hated it. Even when I was staying at Kyle's, mom called and asked me to bring him back home so I'd sneak out of bed without Kyle noticing and return some hours later.

"Ah, alright then," Stan said, giving another smile. "See you tomorrow, Kenny. We could study again sometime this week, right?"

I caught Kyle's eye but continued to look at Stan. "Um...I might not be studying again this week but maybe, yeah. See you guys tomorrow."

I gave a little wave and left without giving a hug to either of them. Sheila and Gerald bid me goodnight, asking casually whether or not I was staying the night but not pressing any further when I said no. I couldn't help but look up at Kyle's window when I was outside, snowflakes toppling down on top of me sending violent chills down to my very bones. He was there, looking down at me with his hand pressed against the glass. I raised my hand in a wave and walked away, putting my hood down to catch some flakes in my shaggy blond hair, loving the coolness they brought.

I was dragging my feet the entire walk home, so when I got there it was 12:37am and my mom was already howling at the kitchen table, mascara smudged down her cheeks like war paint, Kevin patting her arm in a not very comforting manner.

When she saw me, she sniffed loudly and gave her eyes one quicker dab with the already spent tissue before thickly saying: "Kenny...you couldn't be a dear and pick up your father, could you? Phil called, and if he isn't out of there soon they'll call the cops on him again and we can't afford bail right now."

I must've been in an awfully foul mood because, once again, I felt like being spiteful and snapping: "No, fuck off, I've been at school all day and you don't even ask how I am". But I didn't, of course. I opened my mouth to protest, I really did, but her watery eyes made my eyes swim and I complied, nodding so some stray flakes of snow drifted from my head. I headed back out and got to the local bar by 12:58am.

Dad was there, slouching over the counter where Phil, the owner, was getting very irritated and asking in a very high pitched voice to leave (for the umpteenth time). Upon seeing me, relief flooded Phil's round features and he let out a loud: "Finally! Get your bum of a dad out of here, Kenny, will you?"

"Who you calling a bum you monkey anus buffoon drinking..." Dad staggered, rising to his feet to point an accusing finger at the barman. "I'll show you that I am worth more than a dime, unlike your whore wife!"

I tugged at his sleeve, feeling highly embarrassed and ashamed, knowing all eyes at the bar were on me and my drunk of a father. It took a half hour but I finally got dad back in his car, and it took a further fifteen minutes to convince him to let me drive. He gave me a fine good slap which left a stinging, prickling mark on my cheek but I ignored it the entire drive home as he went on about how much he regretted having me and that he would've followed his dream and been rich if it wasn't for me and my mother.

Despite feeling so amazing this morning and wanted, I didn't feel that at all tonight...

**Thank you for reading. Please review. Song recommendations:**

**I Never Dreamed Someone Like You – Katie Irving**

**Almost Lover – A Fine Frenzy**

**Already Gone – Kelly Clarkson **


	5. When The Lights Go Out

**Kenny's POV**

**January 27****th**

Looking in the mirror was never something I particularly enjoyed, because it gave me time to pick up the things I didn't like about my appearance. But that day, I couldn't help but stare at my reflection. I had just had gym for first period, and I was in the changing room, practically alone since everyone else had dived into the showers. The showers always gave Cartman an excuse to laugh because he could apparently see my rib cage, although everyone just laughed at him because we couldn't even see his neck. Now that was poor health.

I stood in my reeking shirt and shorts, staring at myself in disgust and slight amusement. My skin was waxier today than usual and my eyes seemed to bulge in their sockets, ringed by blotches of grey and there on my cheek was a bruise that had swollen the side of my face by an inch from where my dad had lashed out last night. Thanks, dad. If you really want me to parade how bad you raise your kids, you could've just asked. I would've gladly handed out fliers but oh no, I had to be a walking advertisement. I gingerly brushed my fingers across the bruise, wincing at the sharp, dull throb that stirred there.

"Kenny, you in here?"

I spun around at the sound of my name, but I cringed at the voice because it was so familiar. The source stood peering cautiously around the door, cheeks aflame with embarrassment and the thrill of being caught by a teacher or another student. When those green-brown eyes met mine, they flickered with some unidentified emotion. Before I could even try to understand what that emotion was, the flicker had died and was replaced with glowing warmth that made me melt a little like an ice-cream would next to a burning flame.

"Kenny..." Kyle walked towards me, his gaze falling noticeably on my cheek and an emotion I could recognise burst into life in his eyes, and stayed there. His speed picked up and within a few moments he had crossed the boys' changing room over to me, cupping my face with his hands and turning my head to the right to inspect the bruise.

"Who the fuck did that to you?" he asked, sounding almost threatening, like he was restraining the anger that was bubbling up in him. For a minute or two, I wondered if I was the one he was furious with, but I grasped that he was fuming about someone hitting me and leaving such a mark.

"No one," I brushed it away like it was nothing, because it seriously was. Over a billion times I got hurt, be it by someone else or my clumsiness. Either way it didn't matter to me, but I was sincerely touched that he cared. "It doesn't matter."

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Of course it matters! Was it the fat ass? I never thought he'd sink so low to actually..."

"No, no, no," I couldn't help but grin in spite of myself, despite the lack of amusingness of this conversation. "It wasn't the lump. I just...I must've knocked my face harder on the cupboard than I thought I did. My mom swung the cupboard open this morning and hit me. No big deal."

I had used this lie a few times before. It was believable and people bought it...except Kyle.

"You're lying, Kenny," Kyle said flatly. "Whoever's hitting you is a total asshole and they're not going to get away with it. They hurt my boyfri..." I covered his mouth quickly with my hand in case anyone was listening in.

"Shh, it's a secret remember," I beamed as Kyle kissed my hand that covered his lips. "It's nothing, I swear to you. If it was, I'd tell you. Now zip it or Lardy-dar is going to overhear and tell everyone."

Kyle looked defiant but nodded so I removed my hand. The moment I peeled the barrier away, he got on his tiptoes a little and pressed his lips firmly against mine. Memories of that first kiss gushed through my mind, pouring down from my brain down to my very feet, not leaving an inch of me untouched. I held his shoulders as he held my face, our eyes closed in unison as we both shut down to our feelings.

I even remember now how hot and tight everything became on me; my jacket that was a security blanket to me suddenly became an obstacle that I wanted to dispose of in order to be closer to Kyle, my pants seemed like a door that just wouldn't budge, and even all his clothes were like a wall I had to climb in order to get to the desired other side. I didn't know if Kyle was feeling the same, I wanted to know but I felt crazy asking with words. I unzipped his jacket and ran my hands along the chest I found there, feeling his rampaging heart banging on his ribcage, demanding to be let loose.

Kyle had unzipped my jacket too, but didn't allow my t-shirt to stand between his hands and my bare chest. He reached up under my shirt and the touch of his hands upon my naked skin was heavenly torturous. We'd never gone further than kissing; I hadn't even seen him naked yet. We'd slept topless together, and I'd slept in my boxers on more than one occasion. I'd dreamt about going further, thought about it while I was bored shitless in class, wondered what it'd be like whenever I kissed him. We'd made out often enough, but never had we gone further or seemed to want to...this time was different. The anticipation of being caught made me more excited, made me want to push our luck to the point of the other guys returning to see Kyle on top of me completely naked. Maybe my fantasies do run a little wild sometimes...but this is what I think about and it's healthy for a teenage boy to think that way. Teacher in sex education ensured me that.

Kyle had pulled away, leaving my lips sticking out alone and pleading for more. I heard him laugh and he planted a light peck on my lip and untangled himself from my long arms. I opened my eyes, seeing him looking entirely flustered and anxious as he glanced around.

"You warned me not to say the word boyfriend," Kyle chuckled. "But you go ahead and say it with your actions. You're really something, Kenny McCormick."

000

I felt like I had overreacted and I was truly embarrassed about the way I had been feeling and thinking ever since Stan and Kyle had reunited. Kyle had quickly promised me that it would be just the two of us that evening, and that he would tell Stan that he was visiting family that night. I had been a little apprehensive over this, starting to worry about Kyle pushing his best friend away again for me, but the thing was, he couldn't push me away either. I was his boyfriend now and I didn't want to be left out anymore than Stan did. Unfortunately when it's three people, one person is always going to get less attention and that's just how it works. But on the bright side, Cartman had seemed kind of more chilled than usual and bearable to be around so it was the four of us at lunch and no one, I don't think, felt left out for a second.

There was an awkward moment when Kyle had sat next to me and Stan had stood there puzzled to why his best friend had chosen to sit opposite him rather than at his side but he didn't make a big deal about it, and I commended him for that. He sat next to Cartman, slightly reluctantly, but he didn't complain and went on talking to Kyle and me as usual, and every now and then adding something to the tub of lard.

"Wow Kenneh someone's lookin' a little unloved right now!" Cartman remarked upon seeing the lack of lunch sitting before me. "What happened? Mam sell your dinner again to get some soap?"

I flushed but didn't let him now that he wasn't far off. We had no food in the house right now; mom had made everyone else a tiny lunch and had forgotten that I too needed one. She asked if I was alright going without for the day, which I unwillingly agreed to, despite not having eaten since yesterday's breakfast of one slice of toast. Things were getting really bad money wise since dad was spending all the money we had left on alcohol, but whenever mom challenged him about it he'd throw a fit and storm out to get even more pissed and spend even more of our money just to spite her. At least mom was going to shop tonight having saved up some money, at least enough for necessities.

"Fuck off, Cartman," Kyle snapped, alarming me out of thought. "How could your mom possibly love you if she's egging you on to premature heart failure?"

"Actually, Kyle, mah mam does love me very, very much and can't bear to see me waste away like Kenneh," Cartman retorted, wiping the smeared chocolate from his lips.

I really didn't mind Cartman ripping on me...well; I did but not as much as I minded everyone else ripping on me. I couldn't help but notice people glancing sympathetically and amusedly over at me with no lunch...again. I just ignored it and grinned a wide grin to assure everyone I couldn't give a shit. Stan, Kyle and Cartman blinked bemusedly at me as I beamed for no reason, but didn't comment on it, returning to their food.

"Hey, Kenny, I'm not really hungry today," Kyle said, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. "Wanna have my other piece? It's only jam, you like jam right?"

I _**loved **_jam and my stomach growled in approval. I usually despised hand outs and denied them in spite of my desperate hunger but since it was Kyle, I agreed and held the soft, white bread sandwich in my hand with its tidily spread jam in the centre, sticking the two slices together. I wolfed it down without a second thought, the jam strong and sweet in my mouth. I was so hungry it was gone within two seconds, leaving crumbs all over myself and jam on the corners of my lips. The others looked like they didn't know what to say at first but just wound up laughing.

"You're worse than Sparky," Stan snorted, referring to his now ancient dog that had been in his prime when we were around eight-years-old. "He does the same thing whenever my dad gives him some beef, it's hilarious!"

Of course, Cartman couldn't resist the opportunity to poke at me. "Damn, Ken! You'd think you haven't eaten in like, two weeks or something. If you don't slow down you're gonna move up from child's clothes up to an XXXXS!"

"Better than XXXXXXXXXXXXXL, fat ass," Kyle said between giggles, looking at my jam coated lips.

I let out a small smile to Kyle, mouthing a tiny 'thank you', which he returned with a very minute nod of the head before turning back to Cartman. I felt Stan looking at me but I didn't return his gaze, I was too busy watching Cartman and Kyle's semi-serious, semi-joking banter.

000

After school had reached its end, I went to Kyle's house where we talked for hours on end about anything and everything. That was one thing I loved about him...hell, I was already _**loving**_ him. I was beginning to feel for Kyle, regardless of us only being together for a week and two days. I would laugh at people who said the 'L' word way too soon. I knew people who said _**it **_after being together for like three days and I always mocked them, saying that they couldn't possibly feel _**it **_so soon and that it was just their hormones that felt _**it**_. But even if it was only my hormones, I felt _**it **_for Kyle but didn't know whether or not to tell him.

I wasn't sure whether or not he was into that kind of thing, whether me saying _**it **_would make him melt and say it and kiss me passionately, or whether saying _**it **_would make him uncomfortable and say that maybe _**it**_ was just too soon, which would mean I'd ruined our whole relationship and put unneeded strain on him to say _**it**_ back to me.

But keeping _**it **_inside was killing me and I desperately wanted to declare my _**love **_for Kyle as soon as I possibly could. We had dinner with his parents, who seemed pleased that Kyle wasn't focusing on Stan all of the time and was making more friends. Kyle and I held hands underneath the table, and he'd run his warm, smooth fingers over the back of my hand the entirety of the meal, apart from when I had to use a knife and fork, which was impossible to do with one hand. Ike seemed to be the only one of Kyle's family who got a little suspicious, but he said nought and this made Kyle extremely happy.

After the first dinner I'd had in days, we retreated upstairs, hand in hand once we were out of sight, and went straight up to Kyle's room, where Sheila had laid out a sleeping bag for me on the floor, which would not be touched or slept in at all.

"Does Ike know about us?" I asked softly, sitting myself at the foot of his bed as he picked out a film for us to watch. I crossed my legs, holding my feet and rocked back and forth, lavishing the softness of his bed.

"Yeah," Kyle replied distractedly. "He's the only one who knows though."

"When are we going to tell other people?" I inquired, ceasing rocking back and forth as I became genuinely curious. "Like, Stan and your parents..."

"I dunno," Kyle sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "Damn...I can't think of what to watch, Ken. Any ideas?"

"Uh...no, not really," I blinked, confused at the sudden topic change. "But really, Kyle. When are we going to tell people? Don't get me wrong, I like this little secret thing but we can't keep it up. Your parents will get suspicious after a bit. And Stan, I think he's already guessing."

"I know he's already guessing."

"Wha? How?"

"He asked me last night. When you left, he asked if anything was going on between us."

"What did you say?"

"I said no."

"Why?" I couldn't help but feel stung. There was a perfect opportunity to tell Stan everything, he was asking and he didn't seem bothered, but Kyle had said no as if he denied our very relationship. My heart constricted.

"I'm not ready for him to know yet, Kenny..."

"When will you be ready?"

Kyle sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he finally turned to face me. He looked very agitated and I felt concern pulse through my veins, worried that I'd pushed him too far.

"I dunno but I will...soon," he said, striding over to me, putting his hands on my knees and leaning over so we were eye to eye. "Okay?"

I nodded, my eyes darting from his lips to his eyes the way they did whenever he got this close. Our lips were inches apart, inches that I desperately wanted to close but feared to in case I was rejected. My heart was in my throat, hammering in there like someone trying to get out. Kyle captured my lips with his own, his eyes staying open this time instead of closing. I felt that dreamy sensation flood through me and my lids felt heavy but I refused to close them, looking into Kyle's eyes as I kissed him and he kissed me. It was strange watching him kiss me, like I was watching how they did a special effect before watching the actual movie. I saw how everything was working and I didn't like it, it took everything away from the kiss but I didn't want to be the first one to close my eyes. I didn't want him to watch me while I closed my eyes like an idiot. He pulled away.

"You look so concentrated when you kiss," Kyle whispered, his forehead pressed against my own. I closed my eyes when our foreheads met and before I could open them again or reply, his lips were on mine again and we were kissing. His tongue requested entry and I complied, allowing him to explore what was lying beyond my lips, our tongues rubbing against one another, the tip of his tongue flicking to the roof of my mouth, making it tickle so I squirmed somewhat.

He clambered on top of me and I lay down, our kisses being the only sound in the room with the muffled drone of downstairs a distant place that neither of us wanted to stray. We were locked up here in each other's limbs, trapped in the fierce beatings of our hearts, the soft high panting and moans as the clothes were discarded and our bare skin collided. His skin was softer than I ever imagined it would be, save the hard nipples that rubbed against the middle of my chest. Kyle kissed my neck and the tips of my ears where I was most sensitive, letting out a mewl of pleasure. Everything was going so fast and seemed so natural that neither of us questioned each other or what we were in fact doing.

Not for a second did it cross my mind that we were maybe rushing things, that we should stop here unfulfilled and go to sleep. I had wanted my first time to be special, with someone I had been with for at least a few months. I had always imagined my first time to be with a girl beneath me, but instead I was beneath someone else who was going to take me. Every part of me was alight with tingling sensations that spread through my limbs and made me spasm with delight. I locked my legs around his waist and he prepared me and then he was inside of me. It fucking hurt but it was a hurt that I enjoyed and savoured, hissing as I arched my back higher to feel the pleasure that was buried beneath the stinging pain.

The pleasure was harder to find at first and I wondered if it would hurt like this all of the time, if my entire sex life would be pain, pain, pain. But after five thrusts, the spasms got stronger and I began to moan aloud as I could no longer contain it. He moaned too, neither of us thinking of Kyle's oblivious parents downstairs, Ike, my family, Cartman, not even Stan crossed our minds. Just us like it had always been us and no one else. Only Kyle and I, Kenny, existed and all that mattered was that we were together.

I climaxed first and he followed, sinking down on me with sharp, rapid breaths as he tried to regain his composure. I closed my eyes, feeling the throb of bliss weaving through my system, gradually dying out but not forgotten. I had the feeling I'd never forget that night and to make it all the more special, Kyle said something to me.

"I love you, Kenny," he said, kissing me on the lips.

000

_**Do you remember the nights,**_

_**We'd stay up just laughing,**_

_**Smiling for hours at anything,**_

_**Remember the nights,**_

_**We drove around crazy in love...**_

_**When the lights go out,**_

_**We'll be safe and sound,**_

_**We'll take control of the world,**_

_**Like it's all we have,**_

_**To hold onto,**_

_**And we'll be...**_

_**A dream.**_

_**Do you remember the nights,**_

_**We made our way dreaming,**_

_**Hoping of being someone big,**_

_**We were so young then,**_

_**We were too crazy,**_

_**In love...**_

_**When the lights go out,**_

_**We'll be safe and sound,**_

_**We'll take control of the world,**_

_**Like it's all we have,**_

_**To hold onto,**_

_**And we'll be...**_

_**A dream.**_

**Thank you for reading and I hope you've enjoyed. Please review and let me know what you think.**

**Song recommendations:**

**We'll Be A Dream – We The Kings featuring Demi Lovato **


	6. Your Hands

**Kenny's POV**

**February 17****th**

One month today. That's when the seventeenth of every month meant something to me, and it was a day I couldn't help but steal a glance at whenever I laid eyes on a calendar. My eyes would immediately swivel across to the number 17 and I would count how many days until it would be a whole month. Kyle and I had agreed to tell everyone on our one month, so this day held anticipation and apprehension.

Every day that passed I grew more and more certain that Stan would accept this relationship, and even be supportive and enthusiastic. Kyle, however, seemed to have duped himself to believe that the opposite would happen and Stan would be inconsolable and would not speak to either of us. I thought this was a complete and utter over reaction on Kyle's part; Stan wasn't homophobic in any way shape or form and I knew that because...it was Stan.

I think the best part of this was dreaming about Kyle, to wake up in his arms, reminding me that everything I dreamed of could not possibly compare to reality. Not even my sweetest dreams could compare to him or even come close to surpassing him. I woke up as usual on the 17th, the moment consciousness seeped through slumber like light in a pitch black room, I knew the importance of today and it made the corners of my lips twitch upwards into a small smile. I stretched my limbs, feeling a little ache in between my legs and back. Not a concerning ache though...one that reminded me about how goddamn lucky I was to have a person like Kyle as my lover.

"Good morning," I said quietly, testing to see whether or not he was awake too.

"Is the day so young?" Kyle grunted, making my smile widen. He was not so much as a morning person as I was and, even though it was sometimes difficult to cope with someone who was in such a grouchy mood when they woke up, it always made me feel content because that was my Kyle.

"Well, it is 6:20am," I continued, looking at his alarm clock on the bedside next to me. "Do you want to start getting ready for school?"

"Mhmmm," Kyle yawned, rolling so his back was to me. I turned onto my side so I was facing his back; I hated it when I couldn't see his face so I began to run my index finger down his spine where he was most sensitive. He arched his back at my touch and I giggled, receiving a growl in response.

"Come on sleepy pants," I said, snuggling up to him so my chest was now pressed up against him, locking my arms around his neck and my chin resting on his fiery red hair. "You know what today is, right?"

Another yawn on Kyle's part was my answer but I didn't feel hurt that he couldn't remember right now. It usually took him until midday to even remember his name or where he was. Luckily for me, I didn't have to wait until midday for him to realise. A few minutes later he rolled back over to face me, his brown-green eyes shining in the gloominess of his bedroom.

"One month," he whispered and I nodded, confirming that he was correct. His lips twitched and I gave him a kiss that was, at first, intended to be a chaste one but instead he changed it to a long, passionate one that made me shiver. Morning breath bothered me horrendously, but for some reason I could withstand it with Kyle...though I had my limits. After a few minutes I drew back and pinched my nose.

"Mouth wash, stinky," I teased, diving off of his bed as he made to playfully push me.

I stood up in the middle of his bedroom, completely nude, but I didn't feel naked and imposed on like I usually did in front of others without clothes on. I felt like he wouldn't care if my ribs stuck out or if I had Cartman's wonder gut or if I had a third nipple or something. I felt like even if I had all of those things, he would still think I was beautiful and it was comforting that at least one person in the world thought that of me.

"Very well, let's get ready for school," Kyle sighed, rising himself and starting to gather up his dirty clothes. He wasn't as...confident as I was and always insisted on getting washed and dressed alone. Even after we'd made love he'd get up and change into pyjamas so not to sleep naked. We'd made love twice now; last night was our second time, a treat for our one month coming the next day. I figured we were going to do it tonight too, which I was very eager for.

Kyle kissed me lightly on the cheek before retreating to his bathroom, leaving me alone in his room. I got dressed as quick as I could; I pulled on a pair of jeans, my socks that let my big toe poke through and I decided to sneak on one of Kyle's shirts. He always offered me to wear his clothes, and I did sometimes just so I could smell him even though we weren't side-by-side. I rummaged through his drawers, finding a bright blue short-sleeved one that really took my fancy. It was a little baggy but I liked baggy clothes because it made me feel like I was being wrapped up in a blanket. I sniffed the sleeve to check that it carried his scent; just like his other clothes, it did.

When he returned and saw me in his shirt, he grinned. "That looks so much better on you than it does on me," he said, playfully pouting. "You might as well have all of my clothes since they make you look so much more attractive than me."

I blushed even though I knew that couldn't be true. I said this to him and he said I was just humble and should appreciate how good-looking I truly was. To prove his point, Kyle grasped my wrist and put me in front of the mirror and pointed out the things he thought were attractive about me. He noted my eyes, my nose, my lips, my hair, my cheekbones, my chin and pretty much every single tiny freckle pale that was on my nose. I retorted and said I couldn't possibly point out everything that was handsome on him because it was impossible to point out everything. He gave me a quick kiss and held me from behind as I ran his brush through my hair, his chin on my shoulder.

"Are you going to tell your mom today?" I said gently, avoiding his gaze for a moment in fear of seeing something there I didn't like. The only thing I didn't like about Kyle was that he was easily upset, but even this was adorable in its own way.

"Yeah..." he answered slowly. "And my dad. But I need to do it alone, Ken, alright? If they react badly, they'll take it out on you."

I nodded in agreement, imagining what Sheila would say; probably that I somehow corrupted her beautiful child and that I'd spoiled her chances of ever having biological grandchildren. Kyle and I had discussed me telling my family, but both of us had almost immediately agreed that this was not a good idea since I was already on the verge of getting kicked out and my redneck father and mother couldn't handle having a gay son. I knew that that was what I was; I was gay because I could only imagine myself being with Kyle and he was a guy, making me homosexual. It's like what Mr. Garrison had said to us when we left South Park elementary: "Once you have dick, that's where you'll stick".

"And what about Stan?" I pressed, stroking his fingers that sat on my stomach. "You going to tell him?"

Kyle didn't reply but he nodded and I raised my eyes to meet his. I have him a wry half smile and he returned it, kissing my cheek and leaving his lips there for a good ten minutes before parting from me, crumpling up the sleeping back Sheila had left for me on the bedroom floor to make it out like I had been sleeping there. Although he was going to tell her we were dating, he wasn't going to tell her we'd had sex. He wanted her to trust me more and that we were saving it until we'd been together for much longer. I doubted she'd let me sleep over that night knowing we were now an item; it'd probably be a while before I could be trusted to sleep over again.

000

Stan and Cartman were already waiting for us at the bus stop, talking animatedly about something on TV last night or something. I wasn't really interested; I was nervous. Kyle was going to tell Stan on the bus and I was wondering how it would go, trying to picture it in my mind. Would Kyle chicken out and only tell me he'd told Stan? But that wouldn't really work 'cos I'd obviously ask Stan if he was really okay with everything. Stan would be alright, I was certain of it. Kyle was simply overreacting and the moment he told his best friend about us, he'd be all grinning and confused about why he'd ever felt hesitant in the first place.

"Hey, Kyle, hey Kenny," Stan greeted us in turn, a shimmer of hurt flashing blatantly in his eyes. He'd assumed Kyle had invited me over again and had 'forgotten' to invite him. I seriously could not wait for Kyle to explain everything, so then Stan would understand and wouldn't have that stung look whenever he saw Kyle and me together.

"Hey, Stan," Kyle returned, raising a hand and standing beside him. He seemed really tense and nervous; I wanted to comfort him and assure him everything would go fine but I couldn't really act the part of boyfriend yet. I had to act the part of quiet friend and stand next to Cartman, pretending to be listening to him jabber on about how he'd watched a movie last night where a woman crapped on a guy's face. I felt like reminding him that his own mother had been in one of those kinds of movies before but I was too focused on Kyle and Stan.

Things were awkward until the bus came and we all scrambled on. I noticed Stan looked very shocked but pleased that Kyle was taking his old seat next to him that day, glimpsing over his shoulder to see me sitting next to Cartman two seats behind them. I remember wringing at my hands, taking my gloves off and then putting them on again just for the sake of doing something. The chatter and laughter was too loud on the bus so I couldn't catch what was going on; I couldn't even see anything because of Clyde and Butters sitting in front of us, the both of them turning round to chat to Cartman every now and then.

That was the longest bus journey I'd ever been on and when I saw South Park High standing there, I wished the trip had been extended a mile or so more. I was anxious about the result to Kyle and Stan's talk, and as everyone poured out of the bus, I couldn't even steal a glance at them over everyone's heads. When Cartman and I finally stepped off, I saw them waiting for us a little bit away from the road. Kyle was beckoning me over; an encouraging look on his face that told me things had went well. I strayed from Cartman and approached them, pinching my palms to prevent me from fidgeting and appearing hopelessly nervous.

"Kenny...Kyle told me everything," Stan said, not looking me in the eyes. "How you guys have been dating for a month now...dude, I just want you to know its all cool. Just a bit of a shock, so you have to understand if I'm not that into seeing you guys...kissing...or anything..."

Relief made my limbs feel like paper in a manic wind and I could do nothing but hug him tightly, whispering: "Thank you, Stan," in his ear.

000

That dinner time, I had to unfortunately spend it with my family because Kyle was planning on telling his parents then. If everything went well, he'd call me and if not, he'd text me. If he called, I was to go over and if he texted, I'd lie low for a while until his parents calmed down. Stan had been lovely today to Kyle and me, so it left me completely optimistic. He'd even gone as far as talking about how we found out about our feelings and asked if we'd kissed; upon our answer to this one he turned red and stuck his tongue out. Kyle had simply laughed, telling me that everything was okay.

Mom put soup before me and my heart sank; I hated soup but I couldn't tell her that. It's all we had, and complaining did nothing but offend and cause arguments. It was one of those rare occasions when the whole family was there for dinner; mom, dad, Kevin, Karen, Kurt, Kate, Kim and me. It was an awkward time for all of us since dad would go on about how damn hard the economy was for someone like him to find a job. Just excuses really, and everyone knew it but my mom would agree with him and kiss him on the cheek, whispering: "You always try so hard for us" in his ear. Yeah, he tries so hard to leave us with absolutely no money. Bastard.

"Kenny, I've heard you've been spending a lot of time with that Broflovski kid," Dad said, causing me to look up from my dinner.

"Yeah, dad, what of it?" I said, shrugging. "Kyle's..." Kyle's my boyfriend, the love of my life, the one who took my virginity... "He's like my best friend, has been since I was a baby, dad."

"Yeah but I mean like a _**lot **_of time," he insisted, slurping from his beer can. "You two have never been that close before. What the hell's gotten into you two boys? If I didn't know any better, Kenny, I'd say you were turning into a homosexual like your damn teacher, Mr. Garrison."

"Dad, Mr. Garrison hasn't been my teacher since I was like...nine."

"You got a smart mouth, Kenny," dad pointed at me. "Better watch what you say with it or else it'll be on the floor with your teeth."

I blinked and caught my mom's panicky expression, which urged me to be quiet and not talk back. I obeyed, ducking down and sipping from my soup, despising the taste that sat there like a puddle of piss on my spoon. The lack of talking was filled with the clatter of spoons on plates and teeth. I felt dad's grey eyes on me but I refused to look up, even when I'd long finished my meal. I could smell Kyle on me, the scent of his shirt wafting up to me and relaxing me; it smelt delicious and I couldn't wait to smell it again in person...that reminded me that I was supposed to be by my shitty mobile waiting for a call or text, which would tell me how the whole coming out thing went.

"Done," I muttered, rising with my plate. I crossed the small kitchen and dropped the bowl into the sink before retreating to my bedroom.

Once I'd left the room, my parents had started to argue again, dad having a go at mom for not raising me right and her at him for talking to her like a piece of garbage, to which he replied that she was and led to him being kicked out of the house. Again she'd made the mistake of not taking the money from him first, which he took advantage of and hopped into his truck to head to the bar again for a night full of tonics.

I took my phone from under my pillow and cleaned the screen with my jacket sleeve, groaning at the splitting crack on it, and looked to see if I missed any messages. Nothing. I exhaled loudly with a mixture of relief that I hadn't missed his call and disappointment that he hadn't already finished. I couldn't wait for him to let me know...I hoped that they accepted because then I could leave this place and head over his for the night and help myself to some of Mrs Broflovski's hot dinners that looked like feasts compared to the ones served at home.

It was a further twenty minutes before my phone vibrated in the ugly manner it did and I sat straight up, staring at the screen to see if it was a text or call. My heart skipped a beat. A call. From Kyle. I pressed the answer button and held the phone to my ear, gnawing on my bottom lip.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kenny," Kyle said, his voice sending waves of yearning through me, like the way you'd feel after being away from home for so long and get an invitation to return. I wanted to go back, I really did.

"How did it go?" I pushed after a drawn out pause.

"Really well," Kyle filled me in. "Mom wasn't so pleased at first and Dad was going to go round to your house and have a word with your dad. I told him not to and explained everything to them in detail, about how it was me who asked you out and that it was a serious relationship, not a fling. I told him how I was falling in love with you..." I grinned stupidly. "And Ike stood up for us too, and then they just said that they loved me no matter what I was. They want to see you again, and I suggested you come over tonight and they said not yet, but tomorrow."

My stomach twisted; I'd have to spend the night here, the first time in absolutely ages and on Kyle and I's one month. I wanted to enthuse about how great that all was but I couldn't dig up the courage to. Instead I remained silent and Kyle seemed to understand and added something that made everything alright again.

"How about we meet up though? Tonight I mean?" he proposed. "We'll meet at Stark's Pond and spend a few hours together. I know it sucks that you can't come over but I guess mom and dad need to get used to this. Let's give them tonight at least...but all the same, I want to see you. Will that be alright?"

"Fuck yes," I exclaimed, and he laughed on his end of the phone. "I'll meet you at Stark's Pond at 10:00pm. Be there or be a square!"

"I think it's: be there or be square, Ken, not be an _**actual**_ square," Kyle mocked playfully. "Okay, I'll see you there. Can't wait."

000

It wasn't easy sneaking away from my mother's hawk like eye that night. She was set on grounding me for setting my dad off and she'd knocked on my door a few times, demanding for me to let her in so she could 'have a few words' with me but I'd feigned sleep and she seemed to have either gotten the message or given up. I let myself out of my window at half nine that night and managed to land without inflicting too much damage on myself. I just about crept away without being spotted; Kevin was outside smoking and when he heard a thud, he came round to check what the noise was but, even though he saw evidence of my escape, said nothing and walked away as if he hadn't seen anything.

I made it to Stark's Pond in fifteen minutes and I sat there on the freezing cold bench, hands clasped between my knees, rubbing them together feverishly to gather warmth from the friction. I hadn't really thought much about attire and just came in my shirt, jeans and trainers, forgetting to pick up my jacket that I'd discarded after jumping in the shower. I busied myself with sniffing Kyle's shirt that I'd put back on despite it not smelling so much like my boyfriend and a little more like dirt and the morning's sweat. It does get pretty hot under that jacket...

"Kenny!"

I perked up and saw Kyle jogging towards me, hands tucked into his jacket pockets and clouds bursting from his lips as his hot breath collided with the icy air. When he saw I had no jacket, he rolled his eyes and started to unzip his jacket.

"No, no, don't do that!" I protested, not wanting to take Kyle's jacket away from him because I was stupid enough to forget my own. My protests died down as I realised he wasn't taking it off at all.

He sat next to me and opened one side to me, beckoning me to snuggle up close to him. I did as I was told and he slid his arm out from the left sleeve, allowing me to put my arm in, our sleeveless arms linked and hands holding. Our teeth were chattering and we were both shivering violently but I was starting to warm up just because he was there next to me.

"I l-l-love you, Kyle," I managed through shivers.

Kyle tensed up for a moment, and I didn't know why. I figured back then it was because of the cold. I simply closed my eyes and imagined we were together in his cosy bed, Sheila making it almost too hot by putting on the central heating so we were both practically drowning in each other's body heat, the warmth provided by the sheets and the unbearably humid house. It was working too, my trembles faded and I was feeling so much happier.

"I love you too, Kenny," Kyle said even though I'd said it around ten minutes ago now. He kissed my forehead and then both of my drawn eyelids, my nose and finally my lips. His lips were a little chapped and dragged roughly against mine, but I didn't mind because I knew my lips probably weren't at their softest right now. Plus, it reminded me what he was doing for me. He could be at home right now; just pleased that everything went alright with his parents, but instead he was sitting out here with me at 10 o'clock at night, freezing his ass off.

I squeezed his hand in a mute way of thanking him, and I think he got the message for he squeezed my hand in return, our fingers intertwined. It was like his fingers were made to fit in between the spaces of mine; they were so soft and warm. Mine always got a little clammy and it was embarrassing when my hands got a slightly damp but Kyle didn't mind. I loved to hold his hand; it was as if all of our thoughts and feelings were being passed through our clasped hands, through the odd stroke of our digits. I rested my head on his shoulder and he leaned his head onto the top of mine. I still didn't open my eyes, and I drifted off to sleep, at peace sitting next to Kyle Broflovski...

_**Please review and I hope you've been enjoying this story. Song recommendations:**_

_**My Hands – Leona Lewis**_

_**6 Months – HEY MONDAY**_


	7. All I Wanted Was You

**Kenny's POV**

**April 16****th**

Over two weeks ago now, Stan had offered Kyle and I to attend his basketball match, show some support, be it comfort or praising. Of course, the both of us agreed. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for Kyle and me to spend some more time together, as well as have Stan involved. I couldn't help but wonder if he felt more left out than he let on, though whenever I suggested this he blushed and shook his head, assuring me that this was false. I hoped so, because I was so happy right now and I didn't want the price of my happiness to be Stan being left out.

Kyle had been acting odd as of late; it all seemed to go wrong on my birthday, March 22nd. I had insisted that I wanted nothing big done, because there was nothing I hated more than intense attention that was directed solely on me. He had been reluctant not to throw me a party, and had even asked Sheila to try to give me a little nudge by offering to throw it at their house. I had, again, politely refused and so, instead, it was just a day spent between Stan, Kyle and me. Cartman had joined in a little bit too, but he also seemed off too for unknown reasons. He was quieter than usual and didn't seem to rip on everyone as much; even Kyle had admitted that he kind of missed the old Cartman. The day had gone by without so much as a hiccup, it was nice and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

It just felt so sudden; like two flips of a coin. For a moment I thought I was looking at Kyle's smiling face, eyes alight and hand clasped in my own and, despite Cartman's faking-coughing the word 'fags' every few seconds, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Then the next moment his hand was at his side and he was looking distant, lost, and he asked if I could back off for a bit. It was odd; never before, so far in the relationship, had he told me to leave him alone. That was the loneliest feeling in the world, that I wasn't even capable of bringing comfort to my own boyfriend. That was all I wanted, to give him comfort when he felt down, to be the reason he laughed, to be the one to kiss his tears away, to be the one he'd think of whenever he needed me be it good or bad. To imagine him not needing me, made my bones turn to icy cold milk that gushed down my spine down to the heels of my feet, leaving me trembling and naked.

Kyle had apologised straight afterwards, but his features weren't the same. Different words and emotions had been written all of his face, and I couldn't make out what he was trying to say despite everything sitting plainly on his face. Things had been a bit awkward since then; I didn't stay over as much, and whenever I did we didn't do anything spectacular anymore. The worst had been the other weekend, when I'd stayed over. He'd been a tad funny about inviting me over, saying "Only if you want to, Kenny" while I was left thinking 'Of course I want to...why wouldn't I? Don't you want me to?' We'd sat on his sofa for a majority of the night, watching the television and sharing a KFC bucket between us. I had my legs on his lap but whenever someone entered the room, he made me move my legs away although we'd always been comfortable with showing affection publically, even in front of his parents. Even when everyone else had gone to bed, he didn't lie across my chest like he usually did whenever we watched a film, and he didn't react to any kisses I gave him. Usually, a kiss on the forehead or cheek would make him turn around to meet our lips but that time, he didn't do that.

When the shitty movie had finished, he'd gotten to his feet immediately and muttered something about being tired. I bound to my feet and wrapped my arms tightly around him. He didn't hold me back for a few seconds but, after around a minute, his arms wound around my waist the way they usually did, awkwardly though like the stiff arms of a plastic doll. I stared at our reflection in the mirror, wondering what I'd done wrong, wondering if this was the end...if everything had dimmed.

Things had improved a little since then, and he began to stumble back on how he used to act around me. He just seemed reserved now, like he was hiding something and that made me worry. So maybe, just maybe, this basketball game, no matter how trivial it seemed, would loosen the both of us up and would make us focus on Stan rather than our deflating relationship. But even going to the game, seemed to give Kyle second thoughts.

"Do we _**have**_ to go to that, Kenny?" he asked me that afternoon, just twelve minutes before we could be allowed inside the gym. We were standing out in the corridor just by the boys' changing rooms, accompanied by a few parents and friends of other players. Cartman was also there, but we ignored him like we usually did. His fake-cough really was getting worse; he started to cough 'butt-fucker', 'ass-rammer' and 'cock-sucker' now. It had crossed my mind for a flitting second whether it was Cartman's remarks that were upsetting Kyle but then I remembered that Kyle couldn't give two fucks about what Eric Cartman thought.

"Hey, we're here now," I said, trying to act casual despite his question making my heart skip a few beats. "Plus, we promised Stan."

Kyle exhaled heavily, wringing his rarely un-gloved hands. "I know, I know...sorry. I'm just tired is all."

I couldn't see why; he'd fallen asleep at 9:30pm again last night. I had lain awake at his side for a good five hours after that, watching his back as he slept, feeling that cold worm of rejection wriggling in my gut. I'd left for an hour or two just to walk around the street, trying to get my head straight (figures). When I'd gotten back, he hadn't even stirred, like he hadn't noticed my absence one little bit. It bugged me that he didn't seem to care whether I was there or not; like he couldn't sense me anymore.

I reached out and tied our pinky fingers together the way I did whenever I was unsure whether to hold his hand or not. He caught my eyes, swallowed and then gave a faint half smile, giving my pinky a tiny squeeze.

"Ho-ho-homosexuals," Cartman choked right down my ear, giving a few belching coughs afterwards, thumping his chest. "Excuse me!"

"Wish we could, fat ass," Kyle breathed. "If only we could."

I giggled and Kyle's weak smile turned into a grin, taking my entire hand in his and swinging them a little back and forth. My body felt like a cave, and when he did that a trillion hidden diamonds shone within me, electrifying me with their beauty and amount. I was grateful for Stan inviting us; this could turn our relationship back in the right direction. I made a mental note to hug Stan so hard for this.

"You may enter the hall now," the oddly obese P.E teacher, Miss Maxine, said as she opened the doors for us to pass through. "Show me your ticket and remember, no paying at the door. Please wait quietly while you wait for the match to begin. Enjoy."

Kyle, Cartman and me showed the tickets Stan had given us and took our assigned seats at the row directly in the middle. I sat in the middle with Kyle on my right and Cartman on our left. We hadn't even sat down for more than two minutes before Cartman had started grumbling about how hungry he was and asking for the time. When I reported that we still had sixteen minutes, he threw a strop and muttered something about going to get some candy, barking at a pair of girls to get out of his way (of course he wasn't so polite about this, calling them bitches and asking them to get the fuck out of here, what were they doing at a sports event anyway and that they should get back to the kitchen). Kyle rolled his eyes as I apologised to the girls for his behaviour.

"Don't bother apologising for him, Kenny," Kyle said quietly. "We've been apologising for that fat fuck since kindergarten."

I considered Kyle for a moment, thinking about retaking his hand that I'd let go while I showed the tickets to Miss Maxine. I didn't know what he'd think about it though; we hadn't been exactly open about our relationship at school. Only his family, Stan and Cartman knew; a few people have speculated about it, including my mom who straight out asked me (there we go with the straight thing again). But whenever people asked, we always said no because we didn't want anyone heckling us. We didn't want to be like Al and Mr. Slave who eventually had to leave town due to the comments and, on some occasions, acts of violence and vandalism. We didn't want to be the new gay couple; in fact I don't think either of us wanted to be thought of as gay at all. Just...together...romantically involved...in love.

"EXCUSE ME FAT BITCH!"

Cartman's boorish exclamation brought me back down from the cloud of thought that I'd momentarily floated up to. He was shouting at Wendy Tetsaburger, who had been mounting the steps, looking at her ticket to work out where her seat was. Wendy had probably also been invited by Stan; the both of them had broken up last fall for good it seemed this time but they remained good friends. It was painfully obvious to everyone that she still had feelings for him, though for unknown reasons she wasn't acting on them...at least, in our knowledge she wasn't.

"Don't make me kick your ass again, you piece of shit," Wendy retorted, her cheeks turning red as everyone in the gym glanced at the scene.

"Whatever, I let you win," Cartman said, although he lost some of his cockiness and backed down, sitting back down next to me, keeping his head down.

Thinking of it, I wonder why Stan and Wendy had broken up. They had seemed to finally take their relationship seriously, not just saying they were together but not really acting on it. Their relationship had matured with them, and, for a while, we could imagine them getting married young and being high school sweet hearts forever. Then, all of a sudden, they kept their distance from one another and Stan clarified that they had broken up for good this time. Whenever we asked for a reason, he would always shake it off and claim that it was none of our business.

The hall erupted with applause. I blinked and Stan was there, filing out with the rest of the South Park High team, standing a good four inches shorter than the rest of his teammates. He grinned up at us and gave a ginger wave; we returned with a cheer, claps and an 'Alright Stan!' The game was a blur after that. I was just focused on other things; well to be specific relationships. They were strange things, from the outside they seem like the most desirable thing in the world and when you see a couple together, you can rarely see the cracks. When you're on the outside, it's a shock when a couple breaks up because you're stunned there were cracks in the first place, because you had once yearned to be in a relationship like theirs. For years, I had envied Wendy and Stan's relationship, wanted one for myself, but now I was in one, I understood the strain. Everything is about compromise, no matter how much you look at it. I had to compromise everything to be with Kyle, and at some point I have to wonder if it's worth it. If all the things I'm giving up, and all the things I'm trying are going to do any good in the long run. Would Kyle and I being together ruin things for me? Like relationships with friends and family. Was Kyle worth all of that? Was it worth taking a gamble, playing with my own heart and emotions, and get absolutely nothing in return if something goes wrong? Because, to be honest, if we broke up I would have nothing left.

Was he worth all of that?

"Kenny?"

I turned my head and realised I'd been staring blankly up at the ceiling for God knows how long. Kyle's green eyes were scanning mine, and his hand was on my arm from where he must've been shaking or tapping me only to be ignored. And then, with one big jolt in my chest, I knew.

"Ken, you okay?" Kyle whispered. "What you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I assured him, putting my hand over his and locking our fingers together.

Satisfied with my answer, he turned back to the game, his mouth making an 'o' shape as Stan dropped the ball and it was snatched by the opposing team. Whilst the audience groaned, I stared at him. My boyfriend. And I knew. Yes, Kyle was worth all of that. Every single bit of it...

000

Cartman and I were waiting outside on the bench at 10:56pm for Kyle and Stan to come out and meet us. Stan's team had lost and Kyle and I were set on being comforting and encouraging, but I had to wait outside with Cartman because he couldn't stop laughing. In order to spare Stan any further humiliation, I was to keep an eye on Cartman outside while Kyle tried to make Stan feel better. Cartman was still chuckling.

"Dude, Stan's team sucked ass!" he enthused mid-snort. "Oh man that was hilarious. I'd eat my left nut to see that again. He gave the ball to the other team what, like seventeen times? That was fucking awesome!"

"Lay off, alright?" I tried again to calm him down so that when Stan came out his self-esteem wouldn't take another dive. "I know Stan didn't play to...to his best tonight but that other team cheated a hell of a lot. If Stan was a bit taller then maybe..."

"Taller, black and could catch a ball," Cartman cut me off, freefalling back into hysteria as he banged his fists on the bench, kicking his legs as he laughed. I frowned at him although I could feel my lips twitch. Whenever I saw him act like that, it made me want to laugh too no matter what the situation was. It had been like that since we were kids.

When Kyle and Stan had emerged, Cartman was pretending to be Stan, acting dumbly and clumsily, staggering with a glazed look in his eyes. Whenever he'd lose the imaginary ball, Cartman would make a low, droning noise that went like: "Dahooo...wuh?" I had to try to avert my eyes to avoid crumbling into giggles. Stan's face fell upon seeing Cartman and Kyle's eyebrows immediately furrowed into a deep set frown. I mentally pleaded with Cartman to stop, for his own sake as well as Stan's.

"Alright, that does it you asshole!" Kyle snapped, storming over with full intent on beating the shit out of Cartman. I stepped up before he could and held him back, whispering a mantra of 'don't give him the satisfaction'. Cartman quietened at Stan and Kyle's presence, but his grin still remained, slipping but there.

"Kyle, you'll only encourage him," I murmured, gently pushing Kyle back towards a glum looking Stan.

"Get rid of him, Kenny," Kyle said through gritted teeth, putting an arm around Stan's shoulders and leading him away.

I understood why Kyle was upset but was he really that surprised? Had all those years of putting up with Cartman's relentless torments escaped his mind somehow? Of course Cartman would react that way; he did whenever someone else's misery had the misfortune of playing before him. But, no matter what, I was going to stick by Kyle so I did as I was told.

"Damn, Ken, better listen to your Jew bitch!" Cartman jeered, raising the volume so it would reach Kyle's ears. "He might make you bottom next time." I blushed a little since I was bottom all of the four times Kyle and I had done it. Cartman must've noticed because he exploded with laughter. "Ha-ha-ha! Kenneh, all mah life I never imagined _**you **_to take it in the ass! Ha-ha-ha! You bottom to Kyle!"

And just like that, I understood how Kyle's memory had slipped. Just like that, I began to wonder why Cartman would treat a friend in such an appalling way. I forgot that he'd taken everyone's private information since we were toddlers and had thrown it out for everyone else to see. When I had wet my pants in kindergarten and had to wear the spare set, Cartman had pointed it out to everyone. I had been so embarrassed...so humiliated. He'd taunted Kyle for years with hateful comments about his faith, about his family, about just about everything about him. So, I did what I felt I needed to.

I punched Eric Cartman square in the nose. I felt the ripple of the impact under my fist, heard the crunch like the sound of my shoes in the snow that I had walked on all my life. I blinked for a moment, stunned at myself as Cartman held his bleeding nose. His eyes filled with tears as he clutched it, sniffing and whimpering like a child would after being smacked, acting surprised after all of the warnings and chances. Then he began to wail and I felt that pang of guilt but, for the first time ever, I didn't act on it. I turned away from him, tucked my hands in my pockets, pulled my hood over my head and walked in the same direction Kyle and Stan had. Last I heard of Cartman was:

"I'll get you Kenneh! You better watch your poor faggot ass from now on!"

000

"You...you did what?"

"I punched Cartman in the face..."

Kyle olive eyes widened and stayed that way for a while, just staring directly back into mine, swivelling slightly as if he was reading something I could not see, something that would tell him if what I was telling him was true or false. The answer must've been true, since he took my hand in his and turned his gaze away from me, studying the multiple grazes on my knuckles that had started to sting and bleed.

"Come inside..." he said flatly. "Let's clean you up..."

I began to panic as I sank down at the foot of his bed whilst he busied himself in his bathroom, running a tissue under a tap of cold water. Was he angry at me? Disappointed? Pleased? Proud? Concerned? Whichever it was, I wanted to know desperately because I couldn't tell which one it was. Even when he returned, he didn't meet my eyes even though he must've felt me watching him intently.

"Kyle, are you..." I started.

"Hold still," Kyle hushed me, taking my hand. He snatched one glance up at me. "Tell me to stop if it hurts."

To be honest, it did hurt. The grazes stung like fuck, but I didn't complain. I just chewed on my bottom lip as Kyle brushed the wet tissue against my knuckles, pressing tenderly on the worst one. I hissed a little, making him stop for a moment and mumble a 'sorry' before continuing. I took from this demonstration of caring that he wasn't pissed off at me; if he was, he would have told me to go home or told me straight out that he wasn't exactly thrilled at my act of violence. He worked silently, with a 'sorry' and 'hold still' here and there. I obeyed, sitting stock still and clenching my teeth through the sizzling stings and the violent chills that vibrated my form because of the freezing cold water.

The tissue had turned tough now and had turned dry, only giving two trickles of water if Kyle squeezed it. He checked my hand to see it wasn't bleeding so much anymore and seemed satisfied with the result. He rose and dumped the tissue in the bin, drying his hands on his jeans. Since he had no reason to stop me now, I decided to try again.

"Kyle, are you angry with me?" I said slowly, busying myself by gazing down at my lap.

Kyle didn't answer for a while and I began to fear that the answer was yes. I bit down on my bottom lip harder to restrain myself from asking again or saying something idiotic.

"No...Ken, I'm not mad at you," he replied, his words distanced as if he was thinking about everything he said. He didn't elaborate or explain any further.

"Then...what's up?" I pressed, daring to turn my head upward to meet his gaze.

He seemed at a loss, opening his mouth but then closing it, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. His cheeks were pink and hugged himself, lifting his shoulders. "Kenny..." a deep sigh. "I can't be with you anymore..."

_**Thank you for reading. Please review; next chapter will be uploaded this week. **_


	8. His Reasons

**Kyle's POV**

I've been in love with Stan Marsh for as long as I can remember. When we were kids, those feelings confused the shit out of me. I mean, I had always seen men and women together on television, in magazines, and around town. My parents always told me that someday, I'd find a woman that I loved very much and have my own family with her. I waited with anticipation for those feelings, for that desire for someone of the opposite sex. But for some reason, I kept wondering what it'd be like if I was with Stan in the same way my parents were together. We had always been inseparable, always been the best of friends...people had always made snide remarks about us being gay together, namely Cartman. Whenever Stan slept over mine, he would ask how the butt sex was and Stan would always tell him where to shove it.

I'd kind of hoped that someday, Stan would turn round to me and confess that he'd always been confused about his feelings for me. I'd hoped that all those times he denied Cartman's accusations, that he was thinking about what it would have been like if we had gotten together...that's what I did anyway. But no; Stan had sort of seen right through me, and he noticed girls, notably Wendy. Stan and Wendy had this on and off relationship that started when we were eight. He'd harboured feelings for her as long as I could remember; I remember him confiding in me that he thought she was the most beautiful, smartest person he'd ever met and I recall that plummeting notion in my chest like a sinking boat. But I didn't give up hope of us being together until this year.

Wendy could never love Stan like I wanted to. I had loved him for years; she had also I realise but she had hurt him over and over again. I mean, she'd dumped him and gotten with Token pretty much the next day. But still, he pined for her and even though I was there, someone who loved him dearly, he would just bury his face in his hands and claim his undying love for Wendy right in front of me. Now that stung...it hurt so fucking bad.

I never wanted to be gay. I never thought myself as gay for having feelings for Stan. Despite us being the same gender, I just wanted a relationship with him. I couldn't imagine myself with another guy...I mean, all I had to do was think about myself with that fat ass Cartman and I'd feel queasy. I'd tried watching gay porn online, seeing if it did anything for me because I wanted to know for certain I was gay. I couldn't even get through the first five minutes. But then again, I was like that with all pornographic material so it didn't really prove anything. I had even gotten to the point of visiting Mr. Garrison and asking his opinion, asking him about how he knew he was gay. That was just as helpful as the porn because he simply replied: "I'd known since birth, Kyle". HOW CAN YOU KNOW SINCE BIRTH? That made no sense. When you're a baby, you don't know or remember anything. You only start collecting memories when you're like, seven or six. Even then, how did Mr. Garrison know what gay was? I only knew what gay was because of him and even then I didn't want to be it. I didn't mind it for other people, but not for myself.

I was in denial about my feelings for Stan ever being homosexual. It couldn't be. I was just in love with his personality. I was in love with his eyes. His laugh, his smile, his hands, his hair, the way he talked...fuck it, I was in love with everything. When he stopped over mine or me over his, I couldn't help but stare at him. I felt like such a creep, such a pervert and it made me feel worse. I wanted to bury myself in a deep hole and leave a sign warning people not to go down it in fear of a perverted, gay monster living down there.

Now, I bet you're wondering: well, why all this talk about Stan? You were dating Kenny McCormick? Right? Or did I read all that wrong? No, you read it right. I started dating Kenny on January 17th this year...

Kenny had always been there with Stan, Cartman and me. It was us four; from kindergarten, to elementary school, middle school and now high school. I considered Kenny a friend, of course I did but we were never as close as I was to Stan. Stan and I had this connection; our thoughts and personalities always seemed parallel with one another. But with Kenny, Kenny was different. He came from a bad background, I mean everyone knew that and I sympathised. I really did. I just never saw him the same way...though I knew he saw Stan in the same way I saw Stan.

I knew that Kenny was gay, or at the least bisexual. It was common knowledge, like how you knew to clean a public toilet seat before sitting down or to hold a door open for someone coming in behind you. I didn't care that Kenny was gay or whatever, but I cared that he harboured feelings for Stan. Whenever I saw them together, it made my skin crawl and the envy itched like mad. The thought of them ever getting together made my skin prickle with cold and it made my heart feel fifty times heavier, like a burden sitting in my chest. I couldn't stand it when they started to sleep over each other's houses. It made me wonder if they ever...you know.

So, on January 17th I decided that I wasn't going to be invisible to Stan anymore. I'd never been in relationship, so he'd never had to worry about me leaving him any time soon. If I got in a relationship with someone, maybe he'd notice me. I contemplated on asking Wendy Tetsaburger out or maybe Bebe because she had once had feelings for me but I knew neither of them would really bother Stan. He wasn't bothered when Cartman hit on Wendy that one time in December though maybe it didn't count because she did turn him down...harshly. Besides, I couldn't imagine being in a relationship with either of those two girls, and the rest of the South Park High girls didn't seem interested, and I wasn't seriously interested in any of them. All of this supported my theory of me being gay by the way.

So, I made a drastic decision during Math that day. I had been sitting next to Stan, watching the way he gnawed on his pen whenever he was stuck on a question and the way he ran a hand through his black hair and puff out his cheeks whenever he figured out a really tough question. It made every organ in my body contract and made me fidget in my seat in an attempt to hide the loud thumping of my chest that I was certain the entire classroom could hear. Then the idea came to me. Maybe he did like Kenny back...maybe he and Kenny had exchanged feelings or words hinting towards going on a date or even getting together. Well...Kenny was gay/bisexual...and we had known one another all our lives...maybe it wouldn't be so awkward or difficult...maybe...maybe it would get Stan to notice me.

I know it was a terrible thing to do, and at first it started off as a 'get Stan jealous' thing but eventually I got in too deep, the both of us did. I, for one, didn't think at all that Kenny would react to my kiss. I thought he'd push me off and demand to know why I had randomly kissed him. But he hadn't. He'd kissed me back and that kiss, awkward at first, gave me butterflies for a second or two near the end. That was when I had thought: wow, this really could work.

I should've broken it off; I had gotten Stan to notice. He had called a few times, awkwardly asking if Kenny was there and when I replied yes, he'd mumble something about having to go and then hang up. But Kenny was getting too into the relationship; when I realised his feelings were getting involved, I should've called the whole damn thing off but I couldn't. I couldn't help but notice a change in him. He was bothered about school work now; he came in every single day, he seemed brighter, he smiled more, talked more and, most notably, taken his hood down. His hood was rarely ever down, even in the summer when South Park was hinted with warmth. I admit I developed feelings for Kenny. So much so I even took it all the way with him. I had sex with him; I had given him my virginity and, probably, taken his. I was caught up in the heat of the moment, drowning in the sensations that racked my body and just gave myself over to desire and weakness. And I won't lie; it was amazing.

But, even more stupid than that, I told him that I loved him. How could I have been such an asshole? I told him that I loved him...the 'l' word was something I was warned from an early age never to throw around. I always cringed whenever Stan had told Wendy he loved her, because I couldn't understand why he'd say that when they'd only been going out for a few weeks. At that moment, though, I understood why he'd done that. Kenny was...enticing. He brought me in and I began to develop feelings for him.

Of course, Kenny wanted me to start telling people. I had already told Ike that Kenny and I were dating, but even he got the feeling something wasn't quite right. Stan had even asked, but I hadn't the heart to tell him. The perfect opportunity to make him realise he was losing me, the perfect time to let him know that I was taken but I couldn't with his blue eyes locked onto mine, filled with anxiety that he was losing his best friend. Humph, some best friend I am. I eventually told him everything on February 17th, mine and Kenny's one month. Stan had been stunned, but I couldn't get that much from his reaction because he wouldn't even look at me. Did he really find me that disgusting? He promised that he was okay with it, and told Kenny so too.

I could never forget that look on Kenny's face when Stan gave it a thumbs up. His cheeks turned bright red, his eyes widened so their light shimmering blue lit up to its full potential and he gave the biggest grin I'd ever seen on his face. My heart ripped a little at that moment because, deep down, I knew I felt nothing for Kenny...nothing compared to what I felt for Stan.

I told my parents that I was experimenting with my sexuality; my parents had been initially shocked and hurt that I'd kept such a secret from them and I told them that Kenny had offered to help me clarify what my true feelings were. I'd told Kenny, that I'd told them we were in a serious relationship...I couldn't have told my parents that. They knew about my feelings for Stan...and they would've deemed it unfair what I was doing to Kenny, which it totally was. I didn't want them to be disappointed in me; I didn't want them to make me tell Kenny the truth. I couldn't do that...but things were starting to get difficult...

**March 22****nd**

Kenny had turned seventeen that day, not quite a landmark birthday but my mom had insisted that we made it special for him since 'his family couldn't afford it'. Kenny had insisted not to do anything, and had told me that he'd be fine just spending the day with me alone. I remember my chest tightening and the ache in my cheeks as I forced a smile. Still, we invited him over for the day and Stan was also asked to come. Cartman came on his own accord; I tried to slam the door in his face but my dad had heard the high volume obscenities on Cartman's part from the kitchen and had told me to let him in before he destroys any more children's innocence.

"Yeah you know to let me in, crack licker," Cartman grumbled when I'd opened the door to him, waddling inside and planting his ass on the sofa. "Where's the charity case?"

He was referring to Kenny and I was only grateful that Kenny wasn't there to hear that because that's what he hated most about my mom's hospitality; feeling like a charity case. I thumped Cartman hard on the arm.

"Don't call him that, fat ass!" I said quietly through gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough for my parents to overhear and scold me for. "He's on his way over..."

"You sure of that, Kyle?" Cartman pressed, popping open a bag of chips. "This poor excuse of a charity event is too poor for that poor piece of crap."

Before I could say anything, the doorbell rang and I found Kenny and Stan standing at my front door. It made my blood freeze seeing how good they looked together. If I didn't know them and if I wasn't totally in love with one and dating the other, I would've thought about what a cute couple they looked. Kenny was adorably good-looking with his scruffy blond hair that was constantly in sticking up in places no matter how much you tried to flatten them and his bright blue eyes that seemed to light up whenever he saw me. Stan was handsome in a more mature way than Kenny with his thick black hair and dark cobalt eyes. Stan always looked so tentative whenever he knocked on my door whilst Kenny always looked so bright and excited with a wide, toothy grin on his face. They looked like the perfect couple; different but then again opposites attract. Do people who are almost alike in every single way attract? I wasn't sure...

"Thanks for coming over you guys," I said, my voice thick with an emotion I wasn't sure of.

"Thanks for inviting us more like," Stan smiled, stepping past me. When our shoulders touched, it was like a spark was set off between us. A lump rose in my throat.

Kenny looked at me for a moment, scratching the back of his head sheepishly when I said nothing. His cheeks were turning pink...he was so cute...and then, I wondered if I was truly feeling something for him. He was standing there in front of me, his feelings plain and his heart in the right place. Maybe...just maybe...I could someday develop something for him the way those for Stan had developed all those years ago. I know it wasn't fair, dragging him along when I wasn't sure of how I felt about him. But I was starting to...see something in him.

I stepped up towards him and kissed him passionately on the mouth. Whenever we kissed, I always kept my eyes open. His eyes always shut the moment our lips made contact, so he never noticed. The one time we did kiss with both of our eyes open and he blatantly didn't enjoy it at all; the concept of being watched whilst the emotions were raw and playing out so vividly inside of him. I always watched him, saw how concentrated he looked when he kissed me, like he was calculating on where to move his tongue next or when to turn his head. This time, I decided to try closing my eyes too. It felt...good I suppose. But then something cruel entered my mind. I imagined I was kissing Stan.

Kenny pulled away, leaving me throbbing and wanting more. I refused to open my eyes for a moment, imagining that soft panting belonging to Stan. Those bubbles flourished inside of me, those bubbles that rose whenever Stan touched me. They were going crazy inside of me. When I dared to open my eyes and I didn't see Stan looking back at me, my heart tore.

"What did I do to deserve that?" Kenny laughed, pressing his forehead against mine, our noses touching.

"I don't know..." I murmured as he embraced me, and the truth was, I really didn't know what he did to deserve all of this shit I was putting him through...

**April 16****th**

"I'm going to check on Stan," I whispered to Kenny after the match had finished. Stan's team had lost...terribly and I couldn't help but notice how crushed Stan looked when the whistle had blown signifying the end. He was staring at the score in disbelief, hands at the back of his head as he stood dazed in the centre of the gym.

"Okay, I'll wait with Cartman outside," Kenny replied, his breath pouring down my neck like a hot drink. "I think he'll just make it worse...hopefully, he'll calm down by the time you both come out."

I tensed at the words 'come out'; for a second, the idea crossed my mind that Kenny knew about how I felt about Stan but that was just paranoia. I seemed to be getting more paranoid by the second...

"Okay, meet you out there," I said as I rose. Before I descended down to the changing rooms, I narrowed my eyes at Cartman, pointed at him and added: "Fat ass, you better get your cool back by the time I come out with Stan..." my muscles clenched again. "So start thinking of something serious and try to act like a friend for five minutes!"

I heard Cartman say behind me: "Ken has your girlfriend got sand in her vagina?" but I ignored it and made my way through the line of people leaving the hall. People were muttering about how poor the match was and how Marsh should've been benched. I grit my teeth and tried not to have a go at them because, harsh as it sounds, Stan really should've been benched. He looked like he was elsewhere the entire game and he seemed distracted. Whatever was bugging him, I'd know in a moment.

Stan was sitting alone in the changing room, face in his hands. He hadn't showered or changed like the other players had, and he was left alone. I approached him with caution, not wanting to upset him anymore, picking my first sentence carefully apart in my head, replacing words that could misinterpreted.

"Hey...Stan...you alright?" I started, mentally kicking myself for such a trivial greeting. Of course he wasn't alright.

"Mhmmm..." Stan groaned, exhaling loudly and heavily that it looked like he was physically deflating. "Kyle...be honest...I blew it didn't I?"

I hesitated but decided to be honest; he'd asked for it and I was his best friend. I owed him that much. "No man...you didn't suck." Honesty could wait a little longer. Right now, he needed some self-esteem. "You just had a lot on your mind is all. You feel like talking about it?"

"No," Stan said flatly. "I just want to go home."

I was disappointed sure but I complied, deciding not to push him. I turned my back as he changed behind me, fighting the urge just to peek over my shoulder as I heard the rustle of clothing being discarded and applied. He gave me a tap on the shoulder when he'd finished and we left together, heading out to meet Kenny and Cartman outside. It was painfully obvious that Cartman was re-enacting Stan's performance in the match. His impression was terrible, flawed and just plain wrong, but all the same it hurt Stan.

"Alright, that does it you asshole!" I exclaimed, making Cartman jump who seemed oblivious to his extended audience. I stormed over, rolling up my sleeves to punch the shit out of that asshole. Kenny jumped up immediately and hand his hands on my arms, pushing me gently back towards Stan.

"He's not worth it," Kenny whispered over and over. "Don't give him the satisfaction. Kyle, you'll only encourage him."

"Get rid of him Kenny!" I spat, regretting the venom in my tone but I couldn't help it. Cartman was pushing his luck, seriously. I shrugged off Kenny's hands and went over to Stan, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him away.

Cartman's voice trailed after me, something about Kenny doing what his 'bitch' wanted. My blood sizzled in my veins but I didn't give Cartman the satisfaction of looking over my shoulder at him. Stan had his head hung the entire walk back to his house; he didn't say a word and I felt the frustration at Cartman ebb away to a niggling memory, giving Stan's shoulder a squeeze.

"Kyle...do you really want to know what's on my mind?" Stan said suddenly, ducking out from under my arm so he was standing a few feet behind me rather than next to me.

I blinked. "Of course I do, Stan. What's bothering you?"

Stan sighed, digging his hands deep into his jacket pockets, avoiding my eyes. "Your...your relationship with Kenny..."

I recoiled. The one thing I had wanted him to notice from the start was being discussed at long last...but now, I didn't want the conversation. I felt guilty enough as it was. When you looked away from all of the reasons, when you put aside my feelings for Stan completely you saw what the situation was in its true, hideous form: I was using Kenny. And that fact was eating me away inside.

"W-what about it, Stan?"

Stan's expression changed from the miserable state it had been before to one of pure aggravation. "Forget it, it's nothing. Forget I said anything, Kyle."

"No, Stan what were you going to say?"

"Kyle, I said leave it alone!"

"No." I closed the gap and did what I'd wanted to do for a very long time. I kissed Stan.

000

"I punched Cartman in the face..."

My eyes went wide with shock. Kenny had turned up on my doorstep thirty minutes after we'd departed outside the school, fifteen minutes after my kiss with Stan. A wide range of emotions were running through me and I had no clue which one stood out the most. Confusion, alarm, gratefulness, remorse, agitation, hurt...all of them flared their saturated colours inside of me. I had no idea which one to act on. Kenny had punched Cartman for me...because of me. I'd told him to get rid of Cartman; I'd basically pushed Kenny away because of Cartman. So of course, Kenny was going to act out. I just never saw him as someone to get violent, someone to lash out at someone. He and Cartman had had fist fights as kids, but nowadays they just verbally assaulted one another. Out of the four of us, before this relationship started, Kenny was closest with Cartman. Had I ruined their somewhat of a friendship?

I took Kenny's hand in mine and studied the deep, angry grazes on his knuckles. A trail of blood had started to trickle down the back of his hand.

"Come inside..." I said, my voice surprisingly flat and even. "Let's clean you up..."

I led him up to my bedroom, a place that acted as a kind of sanctuary to the both of us over the past three months. Shit, it would be three months tomorrow. The amount of time we'd been together finally sunk in. Three months of a false relationship was too long...it was so awful. So foul of me to do. I glanced up at my reflection and saw the panic sitting there in my eyes, screaming at me: WHAT YOU GOING TO DO?

I didn't know. I returned to Kenny and began to whisper things to him, words of comfort and caring as I cleaned him up although I wasn't 100% certain what I was saying. The entire time I was wondering what I was going to do. Back in March, I was planning on waiting it out, until I returned Kenny's love but was that truly fair? Fair on him? Fair on Stan? Fair on _**me**_? If I could've so boldly asked Kenny to be my boyfriend, couldn't I have done the same to Stan? I mean, I'd kissed him boldly enough tonight...but with Stan it was different. Back then, I was foolish enough to believe that the only thing that mattered in the world was Stan. Now I knew that Kenny's feelings were twice as important because I was playing with them so carelessly right now. He'd told me he'd love me. He'd taken my virginity and I had taken his. I'd lied to him. He was my friend; he'd done absolutely no wrong to me.

And, in the end, it had all been pointless. Stan had turned me down...

"Kyle, are you angry with me?" Kenny asked, startling me.

No, I was angry at myself.

"No...Ken, I'm not mad at you."

"Then...what's up?"

And that was when I knew what I had to do. I had to tell him the truth. I had to tell him everything, my reasons, my wrongs, my mistakes, my selfishness. All of it. I had to tell him and I had to apologise. There was no use in waiting it out, because the longer I waited, the more I made Kenny fall for me, the more I hurt him, the more I hurt our friendship. If there was any chance he could forgive me, I wouldn't want to tarnish that chance. If I pushed it on for any longer, there was a high chance he'd never forgive me and I couldn't have that...he'd been such a good friend to me...

"Kenny..." I sighed deeply. "I can't be with you anymore..."

Kenny's expression broke me. His eyes instantly brimmed with tears, one minute his eyes were clear, curious and apprehensive. Now, they were fogged and hurt played its grim tune there. He blinked rapidly, the tears falling swiftly down his face. His mouth opened and closed, like a broken machine in a rundown amusement park. He couldn't speak, and I stood there, waiting with horrid patience, with my heart throbbing and aching. Kenny rose to his feet. His breathing was ragged, as if something was truly broken inside of him.

"W-w-you...don't want to be with be with me anymore?"

I wanted to correct him; that I simply couldn't but that would've been wrong. It would've given him false hope, it would've led him to believe that this wasn't my doing and that someone else was behind it, putting words into my mouth. But in actuality, these were my words. This was my doing, my attempt at correcting a mistake I made nearly three months ago.

"Kenny...I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking. I was astonished that I had started to cry also. "I...I'm in love with Stan." Kenny dropped back down at the foot of my bed. I pressed on. "I've been in love with Stan for years now...but he didn't notice me. And...there's no justifying what I did, Kenny...but...I...I...I used you...to make Stan jealous..."

Kenny buried his face in his hands, not that dissimilar to the way Stan had done earlier. I swallowed hard and started towards him. I was stopped in my tracks as he leapt to his feet and sprinted out of the front door.

"KENNY!" I cried, following him out of my room. He was bolting down the stairs, tripped over himself and landed, sprawled out, at the foot of the stairs. "KENNY!" I yelped, going down after him. Horror flooded through me as I crouched next to him, seeing the gaping gash on his forehead. "SHIT!" His eyes fluttered open and he our eyes met.

I'll never forget how his eyes looked then. They momentarily looked happy and warm again, lighting up the way they usually did when he saw me. Then they fell dead and he squeezed his eyes shut, pushing me off of him and getting to his feet, swaying as he made his way to the door. My muscles seemed to stop working, as I sat there, frozen, as he opened the front door and left, not once looking back...

_**Sorry for suck a bleak chapter ^^; There are more chapters coming up so please read and review. Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews. **_


	9. Through His Eyes

**Stan's POV**

You know something's wrong when you get a phone call past midnight. I had been sitting in my bedroom, flicking through page after page of this book I was supposed to read for English next week but, no matter how many times I reread a sentence or even a word, none of it was sinking in. I was thinking about Kenny. I'd been thinking about Kenny ever since Kyle had...had done what he did. Kissing me out of the blue like that and making up this bull about how he's so in love with me and has used Kenny from the start to get my attention. No offense to Kyle or anything, he is my best friend, but I could not imagine him doing that, not in a billion years so I didn't buy it. I took his spontaneous demonstration of affection as one of pity. He did it 'cos he felt sorry for me, nothing more, and nothing less.

All the same, I had been thinking about Kenny. I was wondering whether Kyle would tell him or would he keep it our 'dirty little secret'? If he did the latter, I would feel dirty myself, like I'd somehow betrayed Kenny and his relationship with Kyle. I was mulling over this when my mobile rang. I swept a glimpse at my alarm clock to see it was 12:26am. No one calls past midnight unless it's deadly serious, like forgetting to do an essay or warning that some guy down your road is going to beat you senseless. I groaned and groped for my phone in my rucksack, hearing the soft murmur of my ringtone, clicking answer before it could disturb my sleeping parents.

The moment I put the phone to my ear, someone was talking frantically and at a rapid pace. I blinked, sitting up straight as I caught the note of urgency in this caller's voice.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," I interrupted them, still trying to work out who it was calling me. "Who is this and whoever you are: dude why you calling me so late?"

"Stan," I knew exactly who it was the moment this person said my name.

"Kyle?" I squirmed as the memory of Kyle's lips against mine tingled across my mouth. Shaking it off, I swallowed and then continued. "Kyle, what's up? What's with the midnight call? I thought you were with Kenny."

"I was," Kyle said, his voice noticeably shaking. "But Stan, that's the thing. I told him."

"Told him what?"

"About..." he exhaled loudly. "About my feelings for you..."

Have you ever heard something, a sentence, a word or even a full blown monologue, that made your world start to collapse? Right from that statement, I saw everything start to splinter, a splinter that would eventually grow and become a crack, then more and more cracks would start appearing and then, eventually, everything would just shatter. Kyle had done something that could not be reversed; he told his boyfriend that he liked someone else and that was something you just didn't do. Sure, truth and honesty was good and all but you didn't _**tell**_ them. You broke up with them straight away and kept the true reason hidden; that's what I did anyway...

"You did what?" I hissed, trying to keep my voice down to avoid waking my parents and Shelley. "Kyle, what did you do?"

"I told him everything, Stan," Kyle explained. "I told him how I'd...how I'd asked him out to get you jealous."

Oh...so that wasn't a sick joke? A heat of the moment thing that held not a single element of truth in it? No, he was being deadly serious. Kyle had feelings for me. He'd started dating Kenny back in January to get me to notice him. So Kyle had been using Kenny...really? Could that really be right? If it was, Kyle was a pretty damned good actor 'cos he had me fooled...and even worse, he had Kenny fooled too.

"Well, what did he do?" I continued, not planning on focusing on Kyle's feelings any longer.

"He ran off," Kyle sounded in tears; his voice was thick and he had started to hiccup the way he did whenever he cried. "I tried to follow him, to explain that I never meant to hurt him, when he fell down the stairs. Stan, I'm scared he'll do something stupid. He ran off before I could check if he was alright..."

"Well, I'm no doctor, Kyle, but I'd say he isn't alright," I snapped, squeezing my eyes shut the moment I said it, remembering this was my best friend I was talking to. Pushing our friendship aside for now, I continued in a softer voice. "Where do you think he's gone?"

"I called his mobile six times, Stan," Kyle sounded in full sob mode now. "H-he wasn't answering so I called his h-house phone a-and his dad answered. Said K-Kenny wasn't home...I'm scared, Stan."

Some part of me was still furious with Kyle for what he'd done; that wasn't about to change because he was crying. I felt a slight temptation to tell him that it was his fault, his problem and that he should sort it out himself. I probably would've caved to this temptation...if it wasn't for the fact that Kenny was involved in all of this as well.

"Okay, I'll have a look," I said, trying to sound firm to let him know I was still pissed off but also assuring so he knew I wasn't just telling some shit to get rid of him.

"Thank you, Stan," Kyle sounded genuinely relieved. "Thank you so much. Call me on my cell if you see anything, I'll do the same."

"Kyle..."

"Yeah?"

"What you've done is wrong. And I'm not going to excuse you this time. You're my best friend, dude, always have been and always will be but you have a lot to make up for. Not just to me, but to Kenny. I'm only sorry that you felt you had to do..._**that**_ to get me to notice you."

Kyle was silent on the other side and, for an instant, I wondered if he'd hung up on me but I heard him sniff. "I know, Stan," he hiccoughed. "I'm really sorry."

I told him I'd go round Kenny's house to check one more time, that I'd check around Stark's Pond and give Cartman a ring to see if he'd seen Kenny. Kyle agreed and apologised another three times before hanging up. Muttering 'shit' under my breath, I took to changing briskly into a pair of jeans, jumper, jacket and trainers, knowing it'd be ten times colder than usual outside due to the time. Lucky for me, my family sleep like they're in hibernation so even though I stood on the good old squeaky step and shut the front door behind me a little too loud, none of them would stir or know of my absence.

I was right about the cold. It was fucking freezing. I contemplated going back inside and putting on another jacket or shirt or something to keep the chill out a bit more but put my own discomfort aside, focusing on Kenny and how cold he must be right now. I went to Cartman's house first since it was the closest, but in all fairness I'd have preferred not to go round there and to keep Cartman in the dark. Despite the dislike I held for him that seemed to grow each day, he might've seen Kenny or Kenny might've even gone there. The last thought was a hit and miss since I doubted that out of all the people in South Park, Kenny would choose Cartman to dish out some comfort and offer a shoulder to cry on. But, then again, Kenny didn't really have anyone else outside Kyle, Cartman and I.

It took six knocks on the front door and eight tries on the doorbell until Cartman swung it open, looking seriously pissed off. When he saw it was me, his frowned deepened.

"Stan you asshole," he barked. "It's one in the fucking morning, what do you want?"

It took me a few seconds to work out what was different with Cartman's face since it was nearly pitch black. His nose was blackened, swollen and crooked to the right side, dried blood lying dormant in his nostrils. Most likely broken; it wasn't like that after the match so something must've happened during the short space of time we were apart.

"Cartman, what happened to your face?" I asked, struggling to take my eyes from his nose.

"Ask your butt fucker friend Kenneh," Cartman was turning alarmingly red in the face.

I was stunned to say the least. "Kenny did that to you? What did you do?"

"Nothing..." when I raised an eyebrow, telling him I didn't buy it, he rolled his eyes and admitted: "Okay, I said some shit about him and Kyle and how Kenneh bottoms to him."

I tensed, knowing Cartman was leaving out a hell of a lot of detail; it was probably much more abusive than he was letting on 'cos Kenny was not a naturally violent person. It took all the names under the sun to make Kenny take a punch at you, and even then it wasn't the strongest around. A lot of force went into that hit to leave Cartman's nose in the state it was in.

"So, what do you want asshole? I'm sure you didn't knock on mah door to ask me about mah health, Stan!" Cartman continued after a drawn out pause.

"Well...actually...I came to ask you about Kenny," I felt more reluctant to ask Cartman about Kenny now I knew he was in one of his vengeful moods. I mentally told myself not to mention the break up to save Kenny any torments on Cartman's behalf. "Have you seen him?"

"Not since he broke mah fucking nose, Stan, no!" Cartman didn't seem to care that his mom was calling faintly for him to keep it down. "And I don't want to see that pussy's face again unless it's under mah goddamn foot!"

I didn't even bother asking him to let me know if he did see Kenny. "Okay," I said and turned my back on him, walking away at full speed.

My next stop was Stark's Pond but that was a ghost town; seriously, who would go to there at past one in the morning? I began to feel hopeless and the fear began to grow and truly set in. My friend was missing and, from the sounds of it, he was hurting badly, both physically and emotionally. Kyle mentioned Kenny had fallen down the stairs; just exactly how bad did he fall? All these scenarios buzzed into my mind, humming their grinding tune in my ears and making my stomach churn over and over; images of Kenny collapsing by the road side, of him limping around somewhere, heartbroken and chilled to the bone. To make matters worse, it was starting to snow now. Snowflakes drifted down the back of my jacket and shirt, making my body spasm with shivers and making my teeth chatter feverishly.

My pocket began to vibrate and I stopped walking, diving a hand into my pocket and picking up my phone. Kyle's name was on the screen and I pressed answer, turning a blind eye to the disappointment that flickered in me; I'd kind of hoped it was Kenny...

"Kyle? Any sign of him?"

"Stan? Any sign of him?"

We said together in chorus. Giving a faint half smile that felt like it was splitting my face in two, I decided to try again. "Hey, Kyle, I guess you've had no luck then...huh?"

Kyle sighed. "None; Stan I've felt like I've looked everywhere for him. Have you checked Cartman's?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't too helpful. He's pissed off that Kenny broke his nose."

"His nose is broken?" Kyle choked a little with restrained laughter.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "He wasn't very happy to be honest. He said he hadn't seen Kenny since he broke his nose."

"Did you tell him about what happened?"

"No. He doesn't really have a right to know. It'll probably make his day, knowing how twisted he is. I'm going over Kenny's now."

"Okay, Stan, I'll have one more look around. Thank you...for helping out I mean."

"No problem. He's my friend too. I couldn't exactly say no now could I?"

Hanging up, I started towards Kenny's house. I hadn't been over there in years; last time was when we were all nine-years-old and my dad had come over to drop off my things for the night when he heard Kenny's dad shouting about one thing or another. He and Kenny's mom were having one of their famous rows and dad took Kyle, Cartman and me home. He offered Kenny to stop over ours for the night, but Kenny had insisted that he should stay. I hated leaving him there; Cartman found it hilarious. We never stopped over again since the McCormick family was deemed irresponsible and inept when it came to looking after other people's kids. Dad told me never to go over there again and that if Kenny and I wanted to hang out, it was to be at our house.

It looked...pretty much the same. Mr. McCormick had built an extension after he and Mrs McCormick had some more kids; Mr. Broflovski and my dad helped for a couple of days but fell out with Kenny's dad after he was drunk on the job, so he wound up building the rest by himself. I walked straight up to the front door, taking the living-room light on as a sign that they were still up. It took only two knocks on the door to get Mr. McCormick to answer it. His eyes were heavily glazed and he belched out of the corner of his mouth, his lids heavy as he looked down at me, swaying a bit.

"Hey you're the Marsh boy," he slurred, taking a swig from the bottle he held loosely in his hand. "What you want at this time of night?"

"Uh...I was wondering if Kenny was here," I said, perplexed. Wasn't he aware that Kenny wasn't around and if he was, why hadn't be called Kyle to let him know?

"Fuck knows," Mr. McCormick hiccupped. "That boy hardly lives here anymore. Too busy with that...Broflovski kid. Damn boy acts like a fucking homo. No son of mine's gonna be a queer."

Cringing at his harsh words, I forced myself to continue. "Kenny's not with Kyle Broflovski. We don't know where he is. I thought Kyle called earlier..."

"Who's at the door, Stuart?" Carol McCormick appeared at the top of the stairs. "Is it Kenny?" she sounded authentically concerned and I understood that it was she who had spoken to Kyle on the phone.

"No, Mrs McCormick it's me, Stan," I called up to her. "Have you heard anything off Kenny?"

She was down the stairs before I finished my sentence, nudging past her husband. "No I haven't," her eyes were red and looked sore.

I felt like the ground had turned to quick sand and it wasn't only my heart that was sinking.

"You better get on home, Stan," she went on. "It's much too late for a boy your age staying out this late, especially on a school night. Want Stuart to drop you off?"

Some incline told me that Mr. McCormick was in no right state to drive me home; he was stone cold drunk and he could be real nasty when he felt like it. The way he talked about Kenny told me that much. I tried to smile and assured her I could manage by myself, and requested that she gave me a call if (I used the word when to her) Kenny came back home. She swore she would and thanked me for worrying about her son, it meant a lot to her. I turned my back on the McCormick household, confused to why Kenny would ever want to go back there. It made you feel...like there was no escaping it. That, even though I was only a guest, I would be stuck there for the rest of my days, unable to escape the poverty I had stumbled upon. I guess Kenny felt like that every fucking day of his life.

000

It wasn't until 7:30am the next day when I got a call from Mrs McCormick. My dad had noticed my absence when he'd taken a leak sometime in the night and had noticed my light on in my room; he went in to tell me to knock it off to find an empty bed. Luckily for me, he hadn't raised the alarm but the next day, when my alarm rang its horrifyingly piercing song, he told me I would be grounded if I ever pulled a stunt like that again. Now I knew how Butters felt all those years...

I hadn't slept at all well and I was in a severely sour mood as I sat there at the kitchen table, fully dressed eating my cereal opposite Shelley (she'd lost the headgear and now gained a lot of attention from some guys at her college, so her anger levels were quite low these days). The house phone went off and my picked it up on the second ring, her voice muffled by the wall between us. It didn't even cross my mind that it might be Mrs McCormick; not even when my mom came into the kitchen and held the phone out to me. I thought it was Kyle at first and stretched my hand out eagerly, hoping he'd heard something. My mom mouthed 'Kenny's mom' to me before handing it over.

Gulping, I held the phone to my ear. I expected the worst to be truthfully honest. Two possibilities flashed their neon lights in my eyes. The first was a dark red, one that flickered on and off from time to time, like the bulb inside of it was dying. It said that there was still no sign of Kenny. The second was alarmingly and blindingly bright and it flashed on and off continuously, and it said that Kenny was de...

"We found him," Mrs McCormick was sobbing to me.

Both the bulbs in those signs died immediately and left only a trace of fright in me, because at that moment relief was pouring in and I was drowning in it. My knees wobbled and I felt like collapsing out of my chair. I'd never been so scared in my life, but now everything was going to be alright...I hoped.

_**Shorter than usual I know but there will be more. I hope you enjoyed and please review, let me know what you think. I kept having to re-draft this one because I couldn't make it flow right, so sorry if it's a bit choppy and unevenly written. I really enjoyed writing as Stan; I only hope that I've created a kind of individual voice for each of the characters who've had pieces written in their perspective. **_


	10. Friend In Desperate Need

**Kenny's POV**

Unconsciousness was a funny thing; some people loved to romanticize it, make it out like you're floating in some endless abyss waiting until a shred of light tore through the seemingly endless blackness blah, blah, blah. In fact, it wasn't anything like that at all. It was all like a blink; one moment I was in one place and the next, someplace else. It was disorientating and nothing compares to that panic that rises in you when you realise you have no clue where you are. The worst of it is, when you think you're momentarily blind and all you can do is hear everything around you. Alarmingly loud beeping sounded by my ears out of nowhere, and I heard a murmur like someone was talking to me.

"...Kenny...find...hurt...now...rest...worry...I...you...sorry..."

None of what this voice was saying made any sense, and the voice was just a whisper, one that could've belonged to anybody. It felt like I was trapped in this tunnel in my mind, and someone was beating on the outside of it, telling me everything I needed to hear but I couldn't hear any of it. The walls began to close in on me and I felt like the air would be crushed out of me before I could understand what this voice was trying to tell me. My eyelids were too heavy to lift, I could only listen and feel all of the pains in my body start to prickle alive. A dark, droning throbbing erupted in my skull, focused mainly in the right hand corner of my forehead. It's funny how alive you feel despite being in an as good as dead state.

Then I felt something I did not expect. Soft, warm gusts blowing into my face and it took me a second to realise it wasn't a rare warm breeze I was feeling, but someone's breath. Breath usually really put me off; especially the stale one of the morning but this person's breath was scentless and heated up my face. A smooth curtain fell over my face, tickling my face, neck and nose. The voice, that had momentarily ceased, started again, a little clearer this time.

"Sorry..." it said for the second time before pressing something tender and warm against my lips. I would've yelped with surprise if my mouth wasn't momentarily sealed shut, since it dawned on me that someone was kissing me. Something tingled inside of me but it didn't last long for the kiss ended, the owner of those lips parting from me. It was like a ship departing from the docks, holding something very important to me on board and I desperately wanted to climb back on, get whatever it was that I was missing. But, in my immobile state, that was impossible.

A new voice, one I'd heard somewhere before, was speaking. The only word I could catch was "...rest..." and I heard some footsteps, growing distant as they left my side. Who was that with me? Who'd kissed me? God, I wanted to know.

As if it had been a mere trick of the mind, my eyes felt light like I'd just woken up from a pleasant dream. They snapped open without me even thinking about it and I sat up in the bed I found myself in. Every sound made sense now. The beeping was a heart monitor by my bedside. The chill that had settled in my bones was because I was in a hospital gown. The room was empty though.

And just like that, something tore inside of me and all of those emotions flooded back. They'd been held back by some kind of wall that was raised whenever someone was unconscious or sleeping. The moment my eyes were open, the wall was raised and the feelings were no longer barred. They were free to go nuts and my eyes brimmed with immediate tears, though it wasn't exactly clear to me why I was feeling this way. I buried my face in my hands, a twinge of déjà vu glinting in me like I'd already done this. The instant I closed my eyes again, I understood why I was hurting.

Kyle...

000

**Stan's POV **

**May 14****th**

It's been twenty-eight days since Kenny was found and taken to Hell's Pass Hospital for treatment due to his head injury and minor pneumonia. He went home a week after the seventeenth but he hadn't returned to school yet, let alone seen any of us. It was like his existence was just erased, like every trace had been devoured by some creature who wanted everyone to forget him. The only people who didn't seem to forget were Kyle, Cartman [1] and I. We'd all seen him at one point during his stay at the hospital, but the time we'd gone together, Kenny had been asleep. Kyle and I had a few moments alone with him each (Cartman wasn't trusted alone) though he showed no signs of waking up.

Mrs McCormick had called me when Kenny had woken up, apparently a few minutes after we'd left. None of us had returned though, not to my knowledge anyway. I guess it 'cos we had no idea what to say. It was blatant to all of us that he was hurting, otherwise we'd of heard something from him. All the same, I was worried and I would bet all the money I owned that Kyle was too.

Things hadn't exactly been the same. Kyle was...well...he didn't say much. Cartman's nose was nearly completely healed and I think he's put aside the whole revenge thing, considering Kenny was absolutely miserable. We tried to go on as normal, but it was difficult, almost as if we were missing a limb. We couldn't stand steadily with just the three of us; we desperately needed Kenny back.

So, I decided to go pay a visit. I had tried to keep my distance, give him space y'know so I wasn't all in his face bugging him and nagging him to go back to school, 'cos I knew that would only make matters worse. But twenty-eight days? That was way too long and our exams would start soon. I bet he didn't even know what days the exams were or what the tests would even be on. I know I sound like a drip worrying about his education rather than his well-being, but that isn't true. I was way more worried about his well-being, and that is why I was concerned about his education...if that makes any sense? If he failed all his exams over Kyle, that would make everything shitter than it already was.

"Stan, I need you to help me clear out the shed after school today," dad sprang this shit at me as I was half way out the door.

"Er, dad I really can't," teetering on the edge of a heated debate over this, I decided to stand my ground and not put this off a day longer.

"Of course you can, Stanley," he insisted, using my full name so to discreetly stress how set he was on this request. "The new shed's coming tomorrow and I need your help emptying it out. I'm sure whatever you have planned can be delayed for another day, right?"

Despite being severely tempted to give in, I knew that 'another day' for this plan would not happen. I had plucked up the courage to go visit my friend who had taken an emotional throttle and I knew if I tried to postpone it, I would keep finding reasons to put it off. That's what I always did whenever facing an issue I desperately wanted to avoid.

"Dad, I'm going to see Kenny today," I tried one more time, knowing pulling the Kenny card was disgraceful but affective all at once.

Dad peered at me from over the top of his newspaper, his mouth in an 'o' shape as if something inside of his brain had just clicked. Closing up his paper, he rose and came over to me, putting one hand on the top of my head in the patronizing manner he always did whenever he was lost for words. As he ruffled my hair, I knew I was off the hook and I felt the remorse for using Kenny as an excuse sweep on in.

"I'll ask Gerald," Dad said awkwardly, clearing his throat and dropping his hand. "Give Kenny our best wishes, son."

See, even the parents knew Kenny's situation...well, part of it. They assumed his home life had caught up with him and had led him to attempt running away from home. No one seemed to associate Kyle with the situation, and perhaps that was for the best. I bet Kyle and Kenny was just trying to put this all behind them; it'd do no good for either of them if their parents were at war, playing the 'your-son-turned-my-son-gay' blame game.

"Erm...okay?" I mumbled, shifting my rucksack uneasily on my shoulder before turning my back on him and making my way to school.

Even though nothing was now stopping me from seeing Kenny, I found myself trying to find reasons not to go. Not 'cos I didn't wanna offer him a shoulder to cry on or anything like that, but 'cos I was bad at handling people when they were upset. I always felt uncomfortable when someone would pour out their feelings and I'd only be able to provide mantra that went along the lines of 'it's gonna be okay, you'll see, everything will get better' and I hated saying that shit 'cos I didn't know for certain and I always felt like I was lying. I kept telling myself that Kenny wouldn't want to see me, seeing as though Kyle did all that shit to get my attention but, all the same, I didn't know if Kyle had revealed that much to Kenny or not. Maybe Kyle didn't say it was me, maybe Kenny had no idea...maybe he didn't quite hate me.

The day went at a choppy speed, sometimes time would accelerate and I would find myself completely lost and in a daze, wondering how I was managing to make it from one place to another. Then other times time would chug along, making every minute excruciating. The worst was when I was in English, sitting alone again since Kenny wasn't in. I was left in isolation and with my thoughts that didn't seem capable of fixating on something for longer than a minute without drifting back over to Kenny.

At one point, I was utterly oblivious to Mr. Cunningham talking to me that he had to come straight to my desk and slam his hands on my desk to get my attention. I shot out of whatever daze I'd found myself in and felt the colour drain from my face as I realised everyone in the room was staring at me, perplexed and curious.

"Nice of you to join us, Stanley," Mr. Cunningham said coolly. "Now, for the eighth time, would you like to read the poem you've been working on?"

Panic tugged at my insides and I scrambled through my rucksack, spilling its contents onto the ground like the water from a fish tank. Ignoring some sniggers I received from the other students, I flicked through my workbooks, searching for the one entitled 'English'. I found it at last, at the very bottom, only to see it didn't have my name in the box at the top. It read in a very scraggly script:

KENNY MCCORMICK

ENGLISH,

Seeing his name written before me, even though I'd said it aloud a few times in conversation and sometimes to myself, made a great lump rise in my throat like my heart was rising in there. It just made his absence all the more real as I thought about him writing out his name next to me on that first day in September when we got new books, when everything was okay. He'd asked me how to spell Cunningham, and he'd jokingly dotted the 'i's with stars. The pages were curled and torn in places, a coffee stain on the front. He'd never really taken good care of his school books. I glimpsed over my other books but I couldn't see English anywhere. In order to prevent admitting this to Mr. Cunningham and the eagerly awaiting class, I decided to use Kenny's book instead. I opened it out on the desk to avoid anyone seeing the name, and found a poem. With a deep, shaky breath, dreading it to be horrendous and having to take the credit for it, I began to read:

_[2] "__Is this the end of the moment  
Or just a beautiful unfolding  
Of a love that will never be?  
Or maybe be  
Everything that I never thought could happen  
Or ever come to pass and  
I wonder  
If maybe  
Maybe I could be  
All you ever dreamed, cause you are_

Beautiful inside  
So lovely and I  
Can't see why I'd do anything without you, you are  
And when I'm not with you  
I know that it's true  
That I'd rather be anywhere but here without you

Is this a natural feeling  
Or is it just me bleeding  
All my thoughts and dreams  
In hope that you will be with me or  
Is this a moment to remember  
Or just a cold day in December?  
I wonder  
If maybe  
Maybe I could be  
All you ever dreamed, cause you are

Beautiful inside  
So lovely and I  
Can't see why I'd do anything without you, you are  
And when I'm not with you  
I know that it's true  
That I'd rather be anywhere but here without you

Is this the end of the moment  
Or just a beautiful unfolding  
Of a love that will never be  
For you and me?"

My heart clenching tightly like a fist of iron was caging it, I lifted my eyes from the poem to the class. Everyone seemed indifferent to what I'd just read; no one was interested. Mr. Cunningham had his lips pressed tightly together, arms crossed at his chest. I turned away from them, instead looking to the words, devouring each and every one. The taste, that was once definitely sweet, was bitter and that was because I knew what had fuelled Kenny to write that. It had been Kyle and now...__

"Thank you, Stan," Mr. Cunningham said flatly, taking in a deep breath. "Maggie, do you mind reading yours out to the class?"

Attention temporarily averted from me, I pored over Kenny's poem, my vision fogging. Only when I put a hand to my cheek did I feel the cool, sticky trail of tears that had escaped without my knowing. I hastily rubbed my eyes on my sleeve, assuring myself that no one saw. When the bell rang, I felt the dread sitting there within me and it took me a few extra minutes than normal to scrape my belongings into my bag and leave my seat. The classroom was deserted by the time I reached the door, just Mr. Cunningham sitting at his desk with his glasses sliding down his crooked nose. I was nearly out the door when he stopped me.

"Stan, can I speak with you for a second?"

Knowing full well this was to do with the poem, I dragged my feet along the carpeted floors as I reversed, standing with my head bowed in front of his desk. He didn't speak for a good five minutes, jotting something down on a sheet of paper. As I shuffled my feet nervously, he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes before reapplying them. He turned to me and raised his eyebrows so his forehead crinkled.

"So, Stanley, why did you feel it necessary to read Mr. McCormick's work out to the class and claiming it as your own?" he asked, crossing his arms firmly at his chest again.

Stunned, I could only blink dumbly at him, trying to ensure I heard that right before answering. "E-excuse me, sir?"

"That was Kenny's work you read to the class, Stan," Mr. Cunningham repeated. "I'm not blind or have the memory of a goldfish. I remember reading that piece around...January, was it? Your poem read a little bit along the lines of," he reached into his drawer and pulled out my workbook, opening it up to a page that he'd marked by folding the corner and read: "You have pretty eyes, Eyelashes that go flutter, flutter, Oh sweetheart you make me melt like butter..."

Highly embarrassed, I interrupted him. "Stop, stop." I frowned. "If you knew I didn't have my book on me, sir, why did you let me read Kenny's poem to the class?"

"You weren't concentrating, Stanley," Mr. Cunningham explained, grinning widely, most likely at my poem. "I wanted to see what you'd do; pretend you had your book or admit you'd done no work throughout the entire lesson. Well, you decided to use Mr. McCormick's book. However, since he wasn't here to let the class hear his work I had you read it. Wonderful piece, isn't it?"

Tugging at the sleeves of my jacket, I nodded sheepishly. "Yeah...yeah, it was...definitely something, sir. I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind..."

"I know you have," it was his turn to cut me off. "One of your best friend has been absent for four weeks, I can't exactly blame you for being distracted. But still, I'd appreciate it a lot if you paid attention. You do know you have an exam in a few weeks, right?"

I'd been the one who had been concerned over Kenny's education, but in actuality my education was paying the price and my grades were kinda slipping. This fact made me squirm and blush. I gave a jerky nod.

Mr. Cunningham handed me back my book and, on top of that, was the paper he'd just been writing on. Perplexed, I started to read it. It was a note...to Kenny...telling him his poem had rewarded him with an A+ and that he should get back to school soon. Smiling faintly, I bade goodbye to Mr. Cunningham and left, the note burning in my fingers for I knew I had to deliver it straight away...

000

The truck was absent from the front yard and when I knocked on the door nobody answered...I would've turned away and headed home, taking that nobody was home but the door swung with a high pitched squeal upon contact. Something told me that this wasn't right, it couldn't be. A part of me screamed for me to leave, told me that I should get someone to come with me but I just assumed that was the kid in me talking, that I being tempted by my childish fears.

"Hello? Mrs McCormick? Mr. McCormick? Kenny?"

My voice echoed around me, bouncing on the wall and hitting me with a chilling fear. I felt my knees buckle a little, but I pushed myself onward, heading into the hallway. I glanced into the living room. Nothing there. I pressed on, looking into the kitchen to find it empty. The moment I'd walked in, my eyes had immediately jumped to Kenny's bedroom door, and it was as if it was staring at me the entire time I was checking the other rooms, boring into me and demanding attention. Eventually, I could no longer disregard it. Something told me that Kenny was in there.

I licked my dried, chapped lips, trying not to over think about the situation, trying not to imagine the worst. I kept imagining him looking not even a shade of what he used to be; I saw him without that brightness in his eyes, without that natural grin, a voice that once buried all of his hurts, unearthing them for me to see. I couldn't bear to see that hurt, let alone one that Kyle, my best friend, had caused on my behalf. Hands clammy, I balled them into a fist, squeezed my eyes shut and knocked once.

"Kenny?" I called, feeling a sense of no return creep into my consciousness. "Kenny, you in there? It's me, Stan." No reply. If this was someone else, if this wasn't Kenny, I would've turned away and assumed that he truly wasn't there...but it was Kenny. I had to know for definite if he was behind that door. I had to see for myself, with my own eyes.

The door stopped short as I attempted to push it open; a barrier sat there and that provided evidence that Kenny was there. Peering through the crack that the door gave, I could just about see what was preventing my entry. A chest of drawers sat there in my way.

"Kenny, I'm coming in!" I warned, giving him one last chance to let me in himself. When I received no reply, I rolled up my sleeves to my elbows (not out of need but out of habit, one that I'd inherited from my dad) and began to push with all my strength, which wasn't a lot. My chest aching and the muscles in my arms straining, I shoved as hard as I could, contemplating what I'd do if the door suddenly collapsed inwards and Kenny wasn't there. The drawers shifted, and it was almost like an encouraging cry from a friend, one that chanted: "There you've nearly done it! Keep pushing!"

I toppled into the room, nearly landing on my face as I lost my balance. The door slammed into the wall with the force and the drawers collapsed backwards to land with a heavy, loud thump on the floor. Panting and feeling immensely proud of myself, I nearly forgot why I'd nearly broken down the door for in the first place. When it hit me, I half expected to look up to see Kenny sitting on the bed, headphones in whilst reading some porn magazine, blinking curiously up at me. That's what I _**wanted**_ to see. What I saw instead made my heart stop and my body quake, so much so I slid down the wall and stared wide eyed at the scene before me.

Kenny was lying on his bed, eyes closed with his right arm dangling loosely from the side of the bed. On his wrist, were deep, vicious red marks, dried lines of blood down his arm.

"KENNY!"

000

[3]

_**You gotta swim,**_

_**Swim for your life,**_

_**Swim for the music that saves you,**_

_**When you're not so sure you'll survive,**_

_**You gotta swim,**_

_**And swim when it hurts,**_

_**The whole world is watching,**_

_**You haven't come this far,**_

_**To fall off the earth...**_

000

_**Sorry for such a cliff hanger ^^; There are more chapters so don't stop reading! Pretty please. I really hope this fanfiction is going alright for you guys. The last chapter was a nightmare since I had been working on it for a few days. When I write these chapters, I have to write them in one day or I forget what I'm doing and lose interest. That's why most updates are pretty much daily, since I know what I'm writing and I usually don't get writer's block. Unfortunately, I was busy whilst writing the last chapter and I just about managed to write it without scrapping it and restarting. **_

_**Thanks for all of the amazing reviews; they mean so much to me that people are actually reading this story. It means a lot to me and I can't thank you lot enough.**_

_**[1] I figured Cartman would miss Kenny because he would have planned his revenge and would've wanted to deal it out as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he was unable to get his own back and, knowing Cartman, it was probably driving him insane.**_

_**[2] Sadly, this poem was not by me. It is actually a song called "Anywhere but Here" by a band called Safetysuit. Trust me, I tried to write a poem and I just lost the knack at writing them. I haven't wrote one since I was set the same task nearly two years ago in English class so I used the words from a song that is very important to me. So, this wasn't by me and I hope you guys can forgive me XD **_

_**[3] This is a song called "Swim" by Jack's Mannequin. To me, it really reflects what Stan is wanting from Kenny, and what he just wants Kenny to do. **_

_**Thanks for reading! ~ Maisy**_


	11. Addiction

_**Sorry for the lack of updates. The reason being that my exam results came in last Thursday, and I've had a lot of college preparations to do before I return, like enrolling for second year and meeting my new form tutor. I've also had to attend meet ups with friends due to many of them leaving home to attend universities around the country, which is a very sad occasion. Also, I've had severe writer's block these past few days. Hopefully it hasn't damaged my writing any and that you guys enjoy this chapter. ~ Maisy-Shane **_

**Kenny's POV**

"Kenny, why the fuck would you want to top yourself?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes because I knew Stan was upset and most likely distressed. But I'd tried to explain that I _**hadn't**_ tried to kill myself, discreetly trying to tell him that I hadn't had the balls to do it. The idea of committing suicide was one that was exhilarating and tempting, dangling in front of me like the keys to get out of this place. I so desperately wanted to grasp those keys, but I was terrified of what lay beyond, what would lay waiting for me. So I would just stare at those keys, fantasizing about where they would lead me to, imagining what I'd leave behind.

I had contemplated suicide for a few weeks now; at first it was merely a passing thought and I paid it very little heed but it left its tracks behind in my brain. It kept passing and I kept ignoring it, until its prints were too deep in my mind that I could no longer turn a blind eye to them. They were starting to affect me, starting to appear in my thoughts spontaneously and without reason. When I was lying awake at night, instead of worrying or wondering about the day ahead or remembering the day I'd just left behind, I was planning my suicide.

I was going to take a shit load of pills and see how they worked. I was going to go to Stark's Pond and drown myself. I was going to hang myself in my room while my parents were out. I was going to jump off of the top of the school. I was going to wait for a car that was going at a speed slightly faster than others and jump in front of it. I was going to choke myself. I was going to cut my wrists...yeah, it sounds very bleak and miserable, I know but that's all I could think about.

I started to believe that I'd driven myself insane. It wasn't the fact that I'd just got dumped by someone; if someone was acting this way after a break up, I'd have shaken them and told them that they were young, that they had the whole world waiting for them and that if they stopped now, it'd be a waste. If I could so easily pass on that advice, why couldn't I take it? It was like I had traded every part of me away; who I once was, what I'd once thought, once believed, once felt. All of that had been dealt; I'd played with my heart, putting it on the table far too early. If I'd held off for a while, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much right now. Maybe I'd be okay; maybe I'd be back at school and be friends with...with him. It aches to say his name, is that wrong? Is that stupid of me? Before I'd even realised what I'd done, what position I'd put myself in, I'd lost and everything I had was taken away.

Three months of being in a relationship, was not a long time. Before January 17th, I'd been living life day by day, counting down the days to go until things finally got better. Things were looking a little better for me around then, but then this offer came up that I could not refuse. The offer of being wanted by someone...the offer of being in a relationship had been too great and I'd caved before I could read the fine print. It warned in its tiny voice that things could go wrong at any point, that relationships weren't permanent most of the time and that I had to wait until the right moment to give up everything I owned to share with someone else. Foolishly, I had dived head first before testing the waters.

Now, I was waiting for the hurt to cease. People seemed to get straight back on their feet after leaving a relationship; like Stan for instance. He and Wendy had been dating for God knows how long, and when they broke up he seemed so...so calm, and he shrank back to normality pretty much the next day. When I'd asked if he was upset, he admitted he was and said he would be for a long time; he just had to keep on going. I remembered the admiration I felt for him then. Whenever he passed Wendy in the halls, he would keep his head down and would be quiet for a second or two, but then he'd start talking as if nothing had occurred.

Why wasn't I that strong? Why wasn't I able to wake up the next day and manage to put a brave face on it all? I guess brave faces take years to construct, years to perfect, and I hadn't ever had to use it really before. Now when I needed it, it wasn't working and I was wearing every thought, every feeling upon my face. My parents had tried to understand what was wrong, but as I've hinted before, they were always useless at playing mommy and daddy. They wound up losing their temper half way through and would wind up pushing me away rather than pulling me closer. My dad would say I was wallowing in self pity whenever I left my room, so I stopped leaving my room all together.

I blocked my door and refused to go out unless it was for urgent uses like bathroom breaks or a quick gulp of water whilst the house was empty. Kevin had tried to come in a few times, but he was as useless as my mom, trying to understand but not really getting anything of what I was saying. He stood at my door for a good half hour, asking questions, trying to get a picture of what I was going through but he was getting it all wrong. He assumed I was fed up at home, that I'd fallen out with my friends, that I'd just given up on schoolwork since my family couldn't afford to send me to college. He gave in after those thirty minutes, and hasn't tried since.

So, I'd taken on something I'd never really considered before. When people say self-harm, you immediately picture an attention-seeking kid who wants to create a boo-boo so that someone could kiss it better for them and give them a cuddle. I'd never truly understood it myself, but that itch crawled on me the moment I laid my eyes on a sharpener. I was out of my room on one of those occasions when I had the house to myself; I'd fixed myself a sandwich of stale bread and some lettuce, when my eyes landed on it. It was probably Karen's since she was the artist of the family; she'd probably been sketching and forgot to pack away her sharpener, eraser and a few stray colouring pencils.

When I first saw it, something started to creep up my arms, like a shiver but more gripping. I folded my arms at my stomach, hugging myself to warm me up. I turned my back on it and tucked into my sandwich, not really tasting it, just eating it. My gut gripped and clenched as it accepted the small meal; it was the first I'd had in days, and all the while I wanted to turn around. Eventually, without thinking, I stormed across the room, knocked it to the ground and stomped on it with my trainer. A sharp crack clicked through the air and I continued to slam my foot onto it until it had all fallen apart, leaving the metallic razor sitting there in front of me.

I picked it up and let out a hiss as it cut deep into my thumb. I stared at the small wound with curiosity, gazing at the dark globe of blood that swelled at the tip before rolling slowly down like a scarlet boulder, leaving its cold wet trail behind. I didn't think to wipe it away, nor did it cross my mind that I was staring at my own blood like it was gold that had sprung into the air. I only snapped out of this trance when the ball, lacking in quantity now, dripped onto my jeans leaving their eye-catching stain.

I heard my dad's truck outside and sprinted back into my room, barricading it once again, giving me a sense of security, a sense of isolation that thrilled me. I was alone, and no one could stop me from doing this. I sat on the edge of my bed, my eyes drifting from the razor in my left hand to my right wrist. I began to tremble with anticipation and I rested the blade against my wrist, feeling the corner nip at the skin as I started to press down. Then I dragged it swiftly across and stared in amazement as the blood fled to the open wound.

Cutting then became something I did out of habit; I've only been doing it for three days but those three days felt like a block colour of red and I could imagine no other colour or even shade. It was my world, odd as that sounds. It gave me a place to retreat when the pain became too real on the inside, so I gave it a doorway, an escape that I desired for myself. Today, I had cut a little too deep and despite the amount of times I'd tried to stop the bleeding, I could not. My body vibrating with a chill that was not associated with the outside world, I fainted and that's how Stan found me...he thought I'd committed suicide.

"You're a fucking idiot!" Stan was sobbing now, in a fit of tears I'd never seen him in before. He was pacing back and forth, his hands quaking, shifting frantically from his jean pockets to his jacket ones and then crossing at his chest as he folded his arms. "You tried to...over...you...you fucking..."

"Stan," I cut him off, trying to sound firm and utterly serious so that he didn't think I was making excuses or taking this lightly. "I didn't try to kill myself."

"Then what the fuck is that on your wrist, Ken?" Stan froze and his eyes dropped upon the wounds on my wrist. My cheeks turning boiling hot, I tried to hide it when a new emotion swept over his features and he crossed the room over to me. He took my arm and examined the cuts, grimacing.

"I'll get a tissue or something," he muttered, mostly to himself. Without another word, he rose and exited my room, heading to my bathroom. I stared after him.

My eyes were heavy like strings were attached and someone was pulling them slowly down. My head swam with confusion, exhilaration and agitation; my breaths were deep and made me feel like I was floating somewhere else, swaying to a song that was on mute. My arm was throbbing, sprinkles of stinging sensations running across every mark.

Stan returned and crouched before me, starting to dab at my arm. I yelped, my eyes snapping wide open. He, seemingly expecting this reaction, touched my cheek with his right hand, his left still holding the tissue to the injury. His eyes ran circles around my own, nodding curtly at me as if to ask if he could continue. I felt like shaking my head, telling him to leave to let me sleep, but I didn't. I nodded to give him the permission to continue, and he did, his hand remaining on my face.

Like a sudden, brutish strum of a guitar, I realised that this moment before me was not that dissimilar to the one a few weeks ago, when Kyle was treating the grazes on my knuckles. Stealing a quick glimpse at the grazes I'd tried so hard to avoid due to traces of Kyle's affection still lingering there, I felt a tug in my chest, a violent jerk that made me let out a shaky, elongated gasp.

Stan looked up at me the moment I allowed it to escape my lips and he got to his feet, both hands now cupping my face, leaning over to look me in the eyes. I didn't see him exactly, but I knew he was there in front of me, looking at me because I felt it.

"Kenny? You alright?" he asked softly, with such a knowing tone that I felt highly embarrassed and naked.

He was fully aware that it wasn't the pain in my wrist that was bothering me, nor made me make such a sound. Stan understood that I'd thought about Kyle, and that his presence had allowed it. All the same, he didn't drown me in apologies; he didn't start to cry again, he didn't do anything. He just stood there, holding my chin up like he was keeping my head above water, and stared into my eyes, and gradually he came into view.

"Sorry, Stan," I said, my voice hoarse and alien to my own ears.

Stan smiled briskly and resumed his crouching position, tapping his pockets and then frowning as he couldn't recall where he'd put the tissues. He finally realised he'd dropped them onto the floor in his panic and let out a groan, muttering something along the lines of "idiot" and then hastily departed again to the bathroom to get some more.

I hugged myself tightly, tucking my knees up to my chest so I could feel my heart thudding against them. I closed my eyes and started to breathe in and out, slowly but wobbly. Everything from the outside world reminded me of Kyle...I wish it didn't, but it did. Even Stan's being here reminded me of him. When would all of this...shit stop? When will I be able to see things that remind me of him without feeling that pang, that yearning? I couldn't keep dwelling on the past, but the past was all I had. It was where all my greatest and worst memories lurked, and whenever I needed to reflect on a positive moment in my life, all I could think of was Kyle's arms around me after we'd made love for the first time and he whispered: "I love you, Kenny".

Three simple words, when used alone meant nothing...but strung together, meant everything to me.

I was so stuck in these thoughts, wading through them without any sign of escape, when I felt a pair of arms envelop me, pulling me close. My body seemed to fall limp, my knees dropping so my feet were hanging over the side of my bed, my hands slipping and falling to my sides, and my eyes opened a little. It was Stan; I could tell by that sweet smell that he carried like an item of clothing he never removed. I buried my face into his chest, holding him close to me as if he was going to fix me, like if he was close enough I would become whole again.

Of course, I didn't feel fixed but, despite that twitch of disappointment, I still held him, and the hope that I would someday feel that way...that someday, I wouldn't feel so empty and pointless...

000

**Stan's POV**

I chose not to tell anyone about Kenny's new...addiction. If it was drugs or alcohol, I probably would've told Kyle, or even Cartman, because it was something people knew how to manage and control. Simply take away the tools of destruction, and not give it back no matter how much they claimed to hate you. But even if I took away Kenny's razors, even if I rid his home of scissors and knives, he would still find ways to hurt himself, more risky ways and I churned the possibilities in my mind like a disgusting, vile potion that sent off fumes of anxiety. I couldn't stop thinking about Kenny, and it was chewing on my mind so much so that I barely noticed what I was doing. It got to the point of me sitting in the bath for a good two and half hours, only stirring when my dad thumped on the bathroom door.

The water had been bone gnawingly cold but I hadn't noticed until my dad had broken the element of silence where my thoughts screamed their opinions at their highest volume. Trembling, I groped for the towel that sat waiting for me in the sink and wound it around my waist, my feet skidding and sliding on the soaked floor. I opened the door to see my dad there, newspaper in hand, browns furrowed.

"Stanley, I've been waiting for you to finish in here for nearly three hours!" he scolded. "I need to use the bathroom!"

"Sorry, dad," I mumbled, nudging past him to get into my bedroom. I closed the door, not even bothering to listen to what he had to say. I stood at the door for a good twenty minutes, just staring into space as my mind gallivanted and strayed as much as it desired. There were no reins pulling them back to reality anymore.

The toilet flushed and I perked up, shaking my head and changing into my night clothes, my teeth still chattering. I barely heard the knock on my door and I didn't even notice my mom had helped herself in.

"Stan, your dad's worried," she said timidly, obviously being forced into talking to me by dad who hadn't the balls to do it himself. "He says you seem preoccupied. Anything you want to talk about?"

If I told her about Kenny, she would definitely inform his family, and she wouldn't mind telling Kyle's mom, and then it would get back to Kyle who would feel like shit and blame me for not telling him. Fuck why were things so fucking complicated?

"Er...no, not really," I replied, not turning to face her despite feeling her eyes on my back. "I'm just...really tired."

There was a pause before she spoke again. "Did you see Kenny today?"

I contemplated lying, but if I did I would be in shit 'cos I could've come home to help my dad clear out the shed rather than have Mr. Broflovski helping him. So, instead, I told a very edited and revised version.

"Yeah, I did," I said slowly, analysing every single word in case I gave anything away. "He's doing a little better now. He might even come back to school next week." I cringed, knowing this would probably not happen.

"Oh, that's good news," Mom sounded genuinely happy and I felt remorse for not telling her the full truth. "Alright, Stan, I'll let you alone now. Goodnight sweetie."

"Night, Mom," I returned, only risking a look over my shoulder when I heard the door close. To see I was alone in my room, I crossed over to my computer and started to look up 'self-harm' on the internet.

There was one site that was full of advice for people suffering with self-harm addiction, but, basically, it just said: "Don't do it". It offered alternative options such as punching a pillow or writing a diary, but that just sounded really gay and I knew Kenny would say the same.

Other sites offered photographs of horrific self-harm incidents that made me heave at one point, feeling nauseated by the thought of Kenny doing any of that shit. In the end, I gave in and retreated to my bed, crawling under the sheets.

Never in my life did I imagine Kenny doing something like that...that horror of believing my friend was dead continued to drag along inside of me, and I knew that that experience would linger for a long time, and that no amount of years could truly erase it. I stared for a good amount of time at my right wrist, recalling all those savage looking marks upon Kenny's skin, how sore and raw they looked. One after the other leaving barely any skin between them, they sat upon his wrist like dark red ditches.

All of this over Kyle who was my best friend. My stomach twisted and I rolled over with so much force it made my bed thud and sink under me. My eyes widened; oh shit, I broke my bed...

_**A bit shorter than my other chapters but that was because this chapter was so fucking hard to write! Gah! I wrote so many different versions, though none of them seemed to work and when I returned to them they just left me with no place to go and it was just a matter of saving file after file of the same bloody chapter. If this is shitty, I'm really sorry. Thanks for reading though and putting up with me and my irregular postings ~ Maisy-Shane. **_


	12. On The Mend

**Kenny's POV**

**May 16****th**

"Owie!" I hissed, trying to jerk my hand away from his grasp, but he kept his fingers locked firmly around my wrist, dabbing my abused skin as if to erase the angry marks that blazed upon it.

"Kenny, stay still," Stan murmured absentmindedly, entirely focused on what he was doing, blatant to the clench in my jaw and the straight, grim line that my lips had pressed themselves into. "I'm nearly finished."

The wounds were still fresh and they leaked sometimes whenever I was a little too reckless with my hand movements. Stan had been extremely dedicated to me, almost like my private nurse who arrived every weekday after school just to keep me company. To be perfectly honest, it was...lovely to have Stan around. I sound really gay when I say it like that, but it's true. I was becoming kind of dependant on him to always be there, but now it was Friday and the panic bubbled inside of me that over the weekend, he would be too busy to come over and that I'd just be sitting there, waiting for the Monday to arrive.

"There, all done," Stan looked pleased with himself, admiring his handy work in the dim lighting of my bedroom. His fingers loosened and he allowed me to slip my wrist back, slowly dropping his own hand onto his lap, watching me steadily with those dark blue eyes of his.

There was one of those pauses between us, one of those silences where it was either drown or float depending on who the person was. If it was a true, close friend it was one where you could both tread water without feeling uncomfortable or feeling that you were starting to drown. If your relationship was not so strong, you'd flail and start to go under, feeling the need to speak utter bullshit in order not to disappear under the still surface of it all. With Stan, it was comfortable and I felt no dyer urge to break the silence that feel between us.

"Kenny...when are you going to come back to school?"

I felt myself recoil, ice sprinkling into my gut as the wave of dread rolled on in, demanding me to mount or be crushed by it. I swallowed hard, contemplating acting like I'd never heard him. I studied my wrist, feeling sicker after every second. Eventually, I caved and tugged my sleeve back over it and back up to Stan.

I opened my mouth to speak but all that escaped was a high-pitched intake of breath that sounded more like a sigh than an attempt to reply. My throat tightened like I was being strangled and, in a sense, I was. Strangled by my fear of going back, of seeing...him. I clenched my fists tightly as I refused to speak his name even in my own mind. It still cut deep, the hurt so raw I still felt pain whenever my thoughts brushed over the sharp subject of the one I used to be with. Stan didn't say a word and I knew he was waiting for me to, to hear my reason without forcing it out of me.

It took around four minutes before I could find the words that had started to drown at the back of my throat.

"I'm not sure," I murmured, unable to maintain eye contact with him as I spoke. "When I'm ready, I guess..."

"And when will that be, Ken?"

The worst thing was, I had absolutely no answer for that. I supposed when I had finally gotten over...Kyle and could handle seeing him around school again. I tried to imagine what he looked like, and it wasn't all that difficult. His red hair shone in my mind, accompanied by those round olive green eyes that seemed to turn a shade lighter whenever he smiled or laughed, like just by those small movements of his face that he was turning his eyes to an inner sun that was constantly beaming within him. A slight dimple in his cheek as he grinned a tad too wide, and the way a carpet of pink would fall across his face whenever I kissed him in the tender spot on his neck, one that made the words "I love you" fall like petals from his lips...

I cringed, my arms instinctively clamping across my chest, hands squeezing the other upper arm, biting into the skin to drive the pain elsewhere, away from my heart that continued to throb and strain in my chest. I couldn't handle seeing him, and I knew it. Would I just shut down when I did see him in person and not in my memories? Memories hurt enough; I didn't want to hurt anymore. I wish I had missed the first time I'd kissed him...the way everything swam inside of me and made my heart pound like a fist inside my ribcage, demanding to be set loose. I let out a whimper as a pair of hands touched mine, gently prying my fingers loose and setting them down at my sides, continuing to hold them as if to prevent them from resuming their positions. I didn't meet his gaze, staring blindly into space as he turned my hands palm upwards.

"Kenny..." he sighed heavily, touching my wrist. I grimaced, feeling a piercing tingle upon his contact. I looked downwards to see fresh blood forming at the wounds, dark ferocious red that wobbled coldly like globes before sliding down, leaving their warmth behind.

"Oh shit...sorry, Stan, sorry," I gushed, snapping my head upwards to look at him to find his eyes meeting mine, and there was a wry half smile upon his lips.

"Don't apologise, you goof," he said softly, his thumb starting to run over my skin. "Let's clean you up, yeah?"

Two hours later, Stan was standing at my front door, shifting his rucksack on his shoulder, looking tiny on my doorstep compared to me. I realised how tired he looked against the brilliant lighting of the lamppost outside my house; he looked ashen, weary and drained. I felt a slam of guilt and realised that the reason he looked so unwell, was because he was spending his evenings with me and was staying up until the early hours of the morning to finish homework and catch up with Kyle so that he suspected nothing. Shit...did I just say his name? I shivered involuntarily, snatching Stan's attention in a heartbeat.

"Go back inside if you're cold, Ken," he suggested. "I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay?'

Stinging with shock, I spoke without thinking twice. "No, Stan, you won't," I said firmly, causing him to blink several times in the space of two seconds. Before he could create any incorrect reasons in his mind, I went on. "You get some sleep...you've been fussing over me too much. Have the weekend for yourself, and I'll see you at school on Monday. See you."

Stan's face shimmered with a range of emotions at that moment; they ranged from hurt, thrilled, confused and concerned. He finally settled on pleased and the corners of his mouth rose, raising his hand in a motionless farewell before turning his back on me and walking away. I watched him for a while, just standing there at my doorway, ensuring that no one suddenly jumped him or that he didn't slip in the thin layer of ice that was a second layer of flesh on the concrete of South Park. Only when he was no longer in sight, did I realise the chill that was driving my body insane with violent tremors and I shut the door, hugging myself tightly. I hissed quietly as a pulling pain jerked in my wrist and I pulled down my sleeve to glance at the new bandage that Stan had applied before leaving. I lightly brushed my fingers against it, feeling the faint thrum of my heart buried beneath bandage and skin. It hummed its only song: Alive, Alive, Alive. For the first time in a while, I felt glad to be...

000

**Stan's POV**

I'd only just hopped out of my trainers when my mom approached me, arms folded across her stomach and a curious glimmer to her brown eyes. She didn't speak but I knew she wanted to, and that she was simply waiting for me to finish putting my stuff away. I hung up my jacket, removed my gloves and dropped my rucksack onto the floor next to me. Then she pounced.

"Kyle's been calling nonstop since four o'clock," Mom said, her voice flat and void of emotion, though I understood that she was suppressing her annoyance. "It's seven, Stan. Your father's been going crazy, and has unplugged the phone. If I were you, I'd call Kyle back up right away before he comes over in the middle of the night. It must be some sort of emergency but he didn't say anything to your father or me about what the matter was. He just kept asking where you were..."

I nodded, feeling my elation over Kenny coming back to school dimming. Fuck, since when did Kyle become such a burden to me? I hated it, but it was true. He was seriously starting to piss me off, always phoning me at inappropriate times, asking me about Kenny, a question were I constantly had to lie. How could I tell my best friend that I'd been keeping his ex company, and that I was helping him recover from what he himself had done to him? Shit that sounded confusing...but still, all the same I was losing my temper. I had to bat down the flare of irritancy before I even dared to retreat upstairs and retrieve my mobile from my bedside table. I unlocked it and was stunned to see fifteen missed calls from Kyle and seven new messages from him.

_Kyle (3:45pm) Dude, you wanna come over later? Lemme know. _

_Kyle (4:00pm) Stan, I might be going to the see the new Pixar movie in a bit. Come over mine at around 6? Call me._

_Kyle (4:14pm) Your phone switched off again? CALL ME ASAP. _

_Kyle (4:56pm) STAN SERIOUSLY STOP IGNORING ME, YOU ASSHOLE!_

_Kyle (5:00pm) Shit Stan I'm sorry dude...just...lemme know what's going on. _

_Kyle (5:45pm) Fuck dude. Going to miss the movie now. Fucking awesome, why did you bail on me? Are you seeing someone? Is it Wendy? _

_Kyle (6:18pm) Yeah, definitely missed movie now. Could've called me at least. What's UP with you?_

My eyes starting to smart from the garish light of my phone, I put it roughly aside, pressing my palms against my temples as if to hold back the aggravation that was fighting to break free, to let loose and tell Kyle where to shove it. I couldn't do that; despite him constantly being on my case lately, I didn't want to tear his head off. He was vulnerable too, just like Kenny was. He was seeing himself as a villain, someone who'd hurt someone for no good reason. I squeezed my eyes shut; I realised that the reason Kyle did that was because of me. Because he 'loved' me. I'm aware I have no right to mock his feelings, since I have no idea what goes on in his head or his heart but it seemed preposterous. And, if he 'loved' me so much, why didn't he tell me sooner? Why did he tangle everything up and make things harder for everyone? He'd possibly ruined any chance of having a relationship with Kenny, be it friendship or otherwise, and he'd stuck me in the middle like a wall that was supposed to separate them and keep the other from view. I couldn't stand there forever, letting them lean on me simultaneously and expect me to support them no matter what was going on in my own life. They needed to talk again, soon 'cos I couldn't keep doing this.

My phone vibrated dully like nails against chalkboard and I rolled my eyes, picking up and expecting to see Kyle's name blaring on the screen. I glimpsed at it from the corner of my eye, only to give it my full attention as I read the sender's name. KENNY. My heart fluttered slightly, and relief tingled in my fingertips and my muscles went lax. I clicked the open button and scanned the message swiftly.

_KENNY (7:18pm) Hey, Stan thanks for today. I'll see you on Monday. Have a good weekend 3 _

I didn't notice that my lips had spread into a wide grin until it fell off of my face as my phone vibrated in my hand again. This time it was a call, and the name Kyle replaced Kenny's like a cloud covering up the sun. I let it ring out twice before answering, licking my dry lips as I pressed it to my ear.

"Stan? Dude, where have you been? Why haven't you answered my texts?"

The image of Kyle being my nagging housewife skipped into my head and I smirked in spite of myself. "I was out, sorry."

"Out where? Who were you out with?"

He sounded pissed off, but astride that sat jealousy. He was jealous that I'd been spending time with someone else. "Um...W-Wendy," I lied.

"Wendy? Why were you with her? I thought you two broke up?"

"We have. She wanted to see me after school, talk about stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

He was making this too difficult. "Private stuff, dude," I snapped, but then regained my calm. "Sorry about not texting you. I left my phone at home to charge it. We could see the movie tomorrow instead?"

Kyle exhaled heavily on the other side and, at first, I thought he was doing it out of annoyance but then I realised that he was relieved. Relieved he hadn't lost his best friend. "Okay, I'll come over yours at around two tomorrow. See you then, dude."

"Yeah...see you..." he hung up before I could say anymore, probably because he was worried I'd cancel or remember that I'd already created some fictional plans with Wendy. I felt guilty about lying. I lied all of the time, especially to my parents, but never before to Kyle. He was my best friend. Was. I wasn't so sure now. I desperately wanted some space from him, but that was unfair. He needed me and I was going to be there for him, like he was there for me when I broke up with Wendy. Then again, I hadn't hurt Wendy for no reason other than to get someone else's attention.

000

The next day, Kyle had arrived dead on time at two o'clock, beaming brightly at me. He apologised several times to my parents for calling so persistently, and they simply smiled at him, promising it was no big deal even though my dad had been threatening to get a new phone number and not tell the Broflovski's about it. The movie was great, just as I knew it would be seeing as though it was Pixar and they pretty much made Dreamworks look like utter shit, but something was itching at me, warning me something wasn't quite right. Kyle was shuffling closer and closer to me throughout the movie, using any excuse to tap my arm and point at the screen even though I was already staring intently at it, refusing to meet his enthusiastic gaze. I smiled and spoke sheepishly, saying barely anything and it seemed enough for Kyle, who fed off it like a mouse would on crumbs, devouring each word I said like it was some glorious banquet. As we left the movie, his hand kept 'accidentally' brushing against mine, knuckle against knuckle, and whenever he was behind me I felt his wrist bump into my ass. In the end, I brought it up, asking playfully why he was feeling me up and, even though he insisted it wasn't on purpose, he blushed fiercely, telling me otherwise.

"What do you wanna do now, Stan?" Kyle asked, standing beside me outside of the theatre, eyeing up the buildings and stores in front of us like they were destinations of adventure. "Wanna go to the mall and have a look at the new Guitar Hero game?"

"Uh, sure but I have to be back by five," I lied again, feeling my heart tighten in my chest.

"Aw, man that sucks. How come?"

Why so many questions? "Er...my parents have been going really hard assed about my exams. They want me to revise pretty much 24/7."

Kyle's face appeared understanding. "Aw, same here. HEY!" he was grinning widely. "How about we study at your house together? I swear not to distract you; I need to focus on Math."

I knew straight away he wasn't telling the truth; math was one of the things that came naturally to Kyle and saying that he was struggling was like saying that the clouds forgot how to rain. I couldn't call him out on it though because I was lying too, and if I accused him he might turn around and reveal he never bought any of the bullshit I was feeding him about seeing Wendy or needing to study. I reluctantly agreed that that would be alright, and we started to make our way back home when he asked the question I'd been dreading the most...

"So...have you seen Kenny...like...at all?"

The best way to describe the panic I was feeling at that moment is that it was like taking tedious, tiny footsteps into the ocean only to see a fin of a shark in the distance. I had the option of retreating back onto the sand where I knew it was safe, which would mean lying to him and claiming that I hadn't seen Kenny, or I could take a chance and take a few steps deeper, which would mean admitting that I had. But the longer I stood there, with my knees buckling and near enough shitting myself, the fin drew closer and the sand drifted away, safety and retreat a distant thought. When I opened my mouth, it felt like my balls had dropped down onto the ground.

"Uh...yeah I saw him a few days ago," I edited the truth harshly, trimming away the parts that were liable to hurt Kyle.

Kyle ceased walking entirely; leaving me a few yards in front of him until I had noticed he'd fallen behind. I turned to glance over my shoulder, locked in his gaze the moment our eyes touched. I tensed, feeling my muscles bunch together as if they were frightened of being too close to him; my breath hitched and I awaited some form of reply. It was a good three minutes before he said a single word.

"H-how is he?"

I wasn't sure why but all panic subsided the moment he said that. Whether it was because he wasn't shouting, accusing me of picking sides, or that he simply still cared about Kenny I dunno but I felt a lift in my chest, like his words were little balloons lifting my heavy heart.

"He's...okay," I said tenderly. "He says he might come back to school on Monday." I bit my bottom lip hard in punishment for revealing the last part. I wasn't certain if I was allowed to mention that to Kyle, if Kenny wanted it as some sort of secret, but a part of me argued that Kyle would find out either way.

Kyle's expression was unclear to me. His brows were knit into a slight frown, his somewhat thin lips pressed firmly against one another and his eyes lowered to the ground, forcing themselves to remain there despite knowing I was intently watching him. I remained quiet, yelling over and over in my mind not to speak and to let the news sink in. I pondered on what must've been going on in his mind, concerns of seeing the affects of what he'd done, seeing how much Kenny had changed...maybe he was just pleased that Kenny was coming back? That maybe things could be normal again? I sure fucking hoped they'd be 'normal' again. School was such a drag these days; I wanted the day to be over the moment I woke up. Then, before I could register what was going on, Kyle had crossed swiftly over to me and had moulded his lips against mine.

That freezing terror splashed inside of my gut, the exact way it had the last time he'd done this. This time was different, though. He wasn't timid, wasn't experimental. He was purposeful, he was confident and he sure as hell wasn't going to back down. His hands clutched my upper arms, pulling me upwards into his kiss. My eyes remained wide open, as did his. His green eyes were fogged, and although it terrified me that this was my best friend doing this to me, I couldn't help but groan. The groan sounded so sick in my head and I mentally kicked myself for making such a noise. I snapped my eyes shut; trying to pretend it was Wendy. For some reason, I didn't try to shift away from him, didn't push him off. I allowed him to press his lips harder against mine, and I even responded as he ran his hot, damp tongue against the gap of my lips. My mouth opened and Kyle ran his tongue over mine; his hands moved down to my hips and gave them a tight squeeze. My hands, meanwhile, remained motionless at my sides, hanging limp like the limbs of a ragdoll. Then he did something that caused me to jerk back into motion. He bit my bottom lip sharply. It stung and I pulled away abruptly, discarding the stung look in his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry, Stan..." he panted, drying his lips with the back of his jacket sleeve.

"What the fuck gave you the impression that I wanted to kiss you?" I said my voice unintentionally cold. "We're talking about Kenny, Kyle."

"I dunno," Kyle admitted lowly. "I just...I don't know what came over me. I lo-"

I turned and stormed away, leaving him there with his 'lo'. Two more letters and I would've been inclined to punch him. My lips still misted with his warmth and my bottom one still throbbing after the abuse, I walked away, ignoring his calls and pleas with me to come back. I was going to go over to Kenny's, to pay him a visit but found myself too ashamed to. I'd just kissed Kyle, his ex-boyfriend. I couldn't do that to him. I returned home and threw myself down onto my bed, hugging myself tightly and cursing the tightness of my pants...

_**Dun dun duuun. Cliff hanger I know. I just want to apologise for the lack of updates, so much going on especially the weight of writer's block. I finally just sat down and finished this in two days, a personal record I think. I'm enjoying writing this; it's definitely keeping my mind occupied. Please review and let me know what you think. If I seem a little rusty, I apologise. It's been so long since I've been able to write, I may just be a little off with the style and rhythm (that's what he said) but I hope you enjoy. Maisy-Shane 3 **_


	13. A Fresh Start

_**Sorry for the slow updates. Been very busy these past few months, though hopefully updates shall be more frequent in the upcoming weeks. This chapter is dedicated to Ami, who is the Stan Marsh to my Kenny McCormick. She inspired me to finish writing this chapter and has done nothing but support me and my writing. I love you. **_

**Kenny's POV**

**May 18****th**

I had been awake since 2am, and I hadn't been able to sleep. I had nodded off for a while since midnight, but then some subconscious reminded me sharply that the next day was my first day back to school since April. I wasn't sure exactly how I felt about going back; a part of me mentioned that it was better than sitting around here waiting for Stan to come back, but the other part argued that it meant seeing...Kyle again. Maybe me going back would cause difficulties for Stan? He'd have to flit from Kyle to me and would that really be fair? But then again would it be fair on me by forcing me to be around Kyle again? I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured myself around him, around his scent, his smile, his touch, his clothes that I once wore, his voice...

A great, strong tug jerked at my heart and my eyes snapped open. My eyes felt wet and it took me a moment or two to feel the cool beads trickling down the sides of my face, past my chin and then dribbling down my throat. You know when you think about a moment and it starts to play in your mind despite your head telling you it'll do you no good and will only hurt you even more? I began to think back, and it felt like a splinter, sitting raw and tender in my chest.

**February 16****th**

Kyle had suggested we skipped the last two lessons of the day to spend some time alone at his house before his family returned home. It was snowing lightly, but it didn't deter us from taking a slow stroll down the street, hand-in-hand, lavishing those rare instances when we were completely, utterly and wonderfully alone. No family, no friends, no strangers. Nothing to make us feel out of place or anxious, and we could act like a normal couple. We were laughing about something, though I struggle to remember what. All I know is that his face, rosy and flushed from the chill, was lit up and he looked so...beautiful. It's an odd way to describe someone who's male, but handsome just didn't do it justice.

He tilted his eyes upwards, and for some reason we just both stopped walking, stopping stock still to look at one another, our breaths pouring from our mouths like clouds, melding to create one giant one before fading into nothing. Whenever Kyle looked at me that way, a lump would rise in my throat and I would just keep thinking about how happy I was, how happy he was making me. I'd never felt that good, so content, in my entire life and I clutched at it like I was drowning, scared of losing it all and being left with nothing. But my grip was also slacked because a part of me strongly believed we'd never be apart.

I reached out and adjusted the collar of his jacket to ensure he was shielded from the wind; he was staring intently into my face, hands folded at his chest as he held himself for additional warmth. I smiled to myself, muttering something about what he'd do without me. He whispered that he didn't know. My hands froze on his zip of his jacket that I was going to pull up to its limit, and Kyle's hands were suddenly seizing my shoulders, pulling me closer and he leaned upwards to press his lips against mine.

His lips were slightly chapped, rough compared to their normal suppleness due to the weather, but I didn't mind. I kissed him back, my eyes shutting upon contact and my hands instinctively dropped down onto his hips. It was one of our moments of complete privacy, and I savoured every millisecond of it, knowing soon our very relationship would soon resume being a huge secret, one we concealed with upmost care and cautiousness. Right then, we weren't a gay couple, and we weren't just two friends walking home. We were a couple, a loving one at that, a relationship shared between two people whose genders were irrelevant. We were just Kenny and Kyle, and I loved it. We only stopped when our lungs reached their maximum and were absolutely starved for proper intakes of oxygen.

As we gulped the air like water, I kept my eyes closed and my forehead against his, my hands tightening on his hips and his on my shoulders. That squeeze was a silent 'I love you' and struck me the same as the very words. The rest of the journey home was a blur, a mixture of laughter, swift pecks on the lips, cheeks, hair, anywhere we could steal a quick kiss and then we went straight up to his room after checking his parents or Ike hadn't come home early unexpectedly. Thrilled to find we had the house to ourselves, we just allowed ourselves to let loose.

To me, I felt like we were a married couple or at least one that lived together. I imagined the house was our own, and the walls secluded us from the rest of the criticising and unforgiving world. I made sandwiches in the kitchen whilst he picked a movie for us to watch, slipping into a fresh change of clothes that hung off of him so perfectly it made my heart throb. I changed too into one of his spare shirts, pulling the collar over my nose so I could inhale his scent deeply, imprinting every different smell into my mind. We watched some random film, our eyes really set on each other, stealing sneaky glimpses, grinning when we caught the other looking at the same time.

The second the film faded into credits, I turned fully round to face him and he did the same. His eyes flicked from my eyes to my lips, gradually becoming more frequent, and his eyelids turning heavy as we leaned in closer to one another. I cocked my head to the left and he to the right, and our lips met again. Kyle's hands were smoothing my hair, fingers curling round my ears as he passed them on his way down to my jaw line, tracing the shape of it until he reached my chin, encouraging me to get closer. My hands roamed slowly over him, memorising him like he was my Braille, reading every little raise of his skin, every bone I travelled past, how his skin texture became smoother from his nipple downwards.

Kyle breathed something about going upstairs and we did, continuing to kiss on the way up the stairs, he walking backwards, stumbling on a step he did not foresee and me steadying him, gripping him more and more as I became increasingly desperate for him. Inches of me were throbbing and aching, groaning his name and pleading with me to follow my feeling's strict instructions.

Our clothes, a second, irritant layer of skin to us were torn away from us and that insecure, worrisome pieces of ourselves were stripped from us. We were the only things that made any sense in the world, and we didn't want to branch out any further to find anyone else. We made love for the second time, and it was also our last. I won't ever forget the way we lay afterwards; his arms wound around my waist and mine around his back, his head resting perfectly on the curve between my head and shoulder. Neither of us spoke; I for one didn't really want to. The pleasurable thumping continued to radiate between my legs, gradually ebbing away, my heart went on pounding behind the cage of ribs and the taste of his name was still fresh on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to let it roll off of it again but held it back like a hiccup, ignoring its urgency to be set free.

"Is it funny that we used to be...just friends and now we're...now we're this?" Kyle said quietly, kissing my chest right over my heart, lips twitching at its rapid pace.

I felt a twinge of disappointment that the silence had been snapped but I couldn't imagine someone better to break it.

"Yeah..." I sighed, rolling over to look at him, his hand moving onto my stomach. I scanned his eyes. "I'm glad things changed though...it's one of those good changes."

His expression turned vacant, like he was sinking into thought and I allowed him to. I simply pressed my mouth against his forehead, keeping it there for a few minutes, breathing him in. We dressed half an hour later, leaving his room to greet his family who had returned home shortly after we'd started to get changed. Kyle was my routine, and I followed him faithfully and eagerly. If he'd suggested pulling a Romeo & Juliet, I would have in an instant without a second thought, and I didn't question him, not at all. I trusted him, but most of all I loved him...

**May 18****th**

...I suppose I still do, which was why it was so hard now having to go back, having every single detail of those days and nights etched sharply into my skull. It was so vivid and clear, and it hurt me to think about. When we broke up, a wall of security that had been slowly built, brick by brick of comfort, trust, and love had toppled down and I was left staring at where it had once been, wondering what I had done wrong to make it crumble so quickly. It just fell down so easily, like it had been built with little care, although I had put every effort and everything I had into building it up. I wasn't so sure I could go through that again...

**Stan's POV**

I'd been feeling insanely guilty, about a lot of things but the main one being what occurred between Kyle and me on the Saturday. Seriously, what the fuck was I thinking? I let him kiss me and the sickest thing was I enjoyed it. As much as I tried to shove it all away out of my conscious, as much as I wanted to turn my mind away all I could feel was the ghost of Kyle's kiss on my mouth, the noises our lips made sounding in my ears and how I felt when he'd squeezed my hips...shit that's fucked up...

Kenny had texted me twice, once on the Saturday evening and a second time on Sunday morning. Just little ones, asking how I was and saying he'd say me on Monday. I just couldn't find the balls to reply to him. I felt like pulling my waistband to my boxers and taking a peek just to check my nuts were still there. They were, much to my confusion. If they were there, how come I couldn't even answer Kenny's texts? I hadn't really done anything wrong...technically. Kyle had kissed me and I had pushed him away...eventually. And it wasn't as if I had wanted more...consciously. Saturday night, I couldn't sleep. I stayed up watching movie after shitty movie, trying to preoccupy myself. Sunday night I had the sickest dream I'd ever had.

Kyle was kissing me again but we were naked and he wasn't keeping his lips to mine this time, those bastards were going literally everywhere and I moaned and mewled like a little bitch, begging for more. When did all of these thoughts spring into my mind? I clamped my hands over my eyes and took a deep breath, hearing it tremble as if I was holding back tears though my eyes remained dry. I slept rough to say the least, and I was up an hour early, early enough to spend some time downstairs with my dad as he got ready to leave for work. When he asked why I was up, I lied and told him I had a major headache, though he didn't seem to hear my answer as he was half-asleep, munching dazedly on his cereal.

The morning went pretty fast from there and before I had time to prepare myself, it was quarter to eight and I had to go and pick up Kenny. My heart somersaulted and I tried to waste time, patting down my jeans several times over to check for my keys, even though I felt them in my jacket pocket. I smiled faintly when my mom pointed out their location.

"Are you okay, Stanley?" Mom asked, narrowing her eyes. "You're not usually this bad in the morning."

"I'm fine," I replied hoarsely, slipping on my trainers. "Promise." I insisted as her gaze sharpened.

"Alright, but if you feel ill during the day, you have my permission to come home," she said, not entirely convinced I was telling the truth. She cupped my face and kissed my forehead tenderly, smoothing out my hair before I shrugged out of her grasp. "Have a good day," she called after me as I strode briskly down the road in the direction of Kenny's house.

I skidded and tripped my way over, clumsier than usual due to my thoughts being elsewhere, revolving around Kenny and Kyle. They swirled around with such dizzying speed I couldn't even tell the two apart anymore. I had to lean against the nearest fence I could, swigging the icy cold air to refresh my body, pushing away the stuffiness that filled me like straw.

"Stan?"

Needless to say, I jumped out of my frigging skin. When I swung myself around, I registered two things; Kenny's house and then Kenny himself, standing right in front of me, a perplexed look on his face. It struck me then, maybe 'cos we were out in broad daylight I dunno, but it hit me how different he looked from the last time I saw him properly outside. He was back with Kyle then, and his eyes seemed much brighter, his skin seemed less ashen and pallid, and, possibly most noticeably, his hood was down. Now it had resumed its usual placement over his head although no snow or rain was falling. It was his barrier, back up again, protecting him and keeping him safe. Now, something as trivial and feeble as a hood being up meant nothing for everyone else; if Cartman came in wearing a hood over his head my second thought (after wondering how he managed to get it over his fat head) would be that it was slightly out of the ordinary but I wouldn't think more into it. He probably just wanted a change or extra warmth to conceal his ears from the cold...but with Kenny it was different. Ever since he was a kid he'd wear it; teachers would tell him off time after time but after a while they grew tired of tearing it off his head to find him pulling it back on five minutes later. It didn't really matter to me back then, I just knew that was how he liked to dress and I didn't question him about it.

Only when Kenny had taken it down when he was with Kyle, did I suddenly understand. He was hiding because being invisible was something he didn't necessarily like, but he felt safer and more secure. It was his security blanket, and when it was down I started to notice him more. How scruffy his hair really was and no matter how frigging hard I tried I couldn't flatten it; how he wrinkled his nose whenever he was confused or didn't like something; how he was sensitive to the cold; how wide and fucking natural his grin was. All of those things made me like him more, made me feel closer to him. He wasn't just a hood anymore or a jacket for that matter; Kenny was a person, a friend. And now the hood was back up, it was like he was trying to fit back into that old persona, just the accessory, but I couldn't forget the person, the friend, underneath it...fuck that was really gay...

"Hey Ken," I choked, clearing my throat 'cos it sounded like I was about to burst into tears. "I didn't see you there."

"Well you couldn't really," Kenny said softly. "Your eyes were closed."

We stared at each other blankly for a moment; I felt caught between laughing and feeling irritated both for completely unknown reason since his statement was neither hilarious nor annoying. Looking into his eyes, I felt all my concerns and guilt begin to slip away, sliding into an unconscious part of me that I would soon reunite with when I was away from him. Right now, I relished it and decided to keep a positive attitude around Kenny, to keep him optimistic about his first day back. When my mouth split into a grin and I held out my hand to him, he looked surprised.

"C'mon then," I said as brightly as I could manage. "Let's get going."

Kenny didn't say a word and he didn't really have to. I'd said everything in those simple words, and he milked comfort from them, walking to meet me and tapped my hand away, his mouth twitching.

"No hand holding," he said lowly, a wisp of a laugh in his voice. "People will think we're gay."

**0000**

We talked with ease all the way up to the school, side by side, talking about anything and everything. That was one thing I loved about Kenny; I could bring up utter shit, like some retarded thing Sparky did last night and he'd bust a gut laughing. He was easily pleased, which was probably why he could withstand Cartman back when Kyle and I were borderline a married couple. I didn't feel boring around him; I didn't have to suffer prolonged silences or feel like I was frantically searching for topics he'd find entertaining or interesting. With Kyle, he'd always wind up discussing Cartman in some shape or form, and that was the only way to fuel the conversation. With Kenny...it was as if he was just eager to speak and to be acknowledged.

Only when the school began to emerge into view, did Kenny start to quieten down until he reached the point of just his lips twitching into an awkward smile whenever I spoke and a brisk nod alongside a quiet "Yeah" or "Mhmm". If I wasn't aware of how great a step this was for him in his getting over Kyle, I would've felt agitated that he wasn't paying attention to me, perhaps even a little saddened that the enthusiastic and light atmosphere had dimmed. But this was a massive step in Kenny's recovery and a speck of concern dotted itself in my mind as I considered the possibility of this going horrifically wrong and setting Kenny back rather than dragging him forwards. I decided to try to distract him and make him feel like this was just another normal school day as best as I could.

"Ken, Mr. Cunningham really liked your poem," I threw it out there, a part of my brain ticking as it recalled our English teacher's praise.

Kenny blinked and looked at me, his thoughts, for the time being, averted. "Poem?" his voice sounded strangled, like it had just about managed to clamber out of his tightly sealed throat.

"Yeah," I stopped walking and dove my hand into my back, shuffling through countless pieces of paper, some possibly from last year and never touched after I received them from my teachers. "Hang on..."

I stuck out my tongue as I pulled out sheet after sheet, giving them hasty glimpses before deeming them useless and putting them back into the depths of my rucksack until my bag's next clean out (whenever that would be). And then there it was; Kenny's English book, scruffier than it was originally if that was possible. I found him the page, feeling the same squirm in my stomach as my eyes skidded over the first sentence as I did the first time I read it, and then handed it over to him.

Kenny took it from me and stared for a long while at it, eyes swinging to and fro as he read, and then his face turned alarmingly red. He let out a tiny gasp and then shoved his book back into his bag, catching his fingers on the zipper as he did so, letting out a yelp. Kenny put his smarting fingers to his mouth as if to soothe the grazes.

I was freaking perplexed to say the least...then felt worried in case he remembered he had written it for Kyle. But he wasn't crying, and he didn't look upset. If anything he just looked purely embarrassed, like I had just walked in on him during his 'flying solo' moments if you catch my drift.

"Let's go," Kenny said abruptly, not looking me directly in the eyes. "We'll be late otherwise."

I blinked, bemused. Kenny was actually in a rush to get to school? I suppose he wasn't really thinking about Kyle at that point. He just looked keen on moving on from what had just occurred...although what that was I wasn't entirely certain. He was already walking away before I could reply, sliding and slipping in his determination to get away as quickly as possible. I sniggered to myself, tucking my hands in my jacket pockets and I followed him up to school...

**Kyle's POV**

If I could rename Monday "Kenny-Coming-Back-Day" I totally would because that was all this day was to me. It wasn't the end of the weekend to me like it usually was, and I dreaded it for entirely different reasons. See, Stan and Cartman had been kinda easy on me concerning the whole break up scenario and hadn't been slamming it in my face. I wasn't quite sure why Cartman had been letting me get away with it, but I had a feeling that Stan may of had a part to play or perhaps the fat ass was just relieved that he didn't have to live up to his vows of revenge against Kenny for breaking his nose. After all, Cartman was a complete and utter wimp.

Things hadn't exactly been left on a good note with Stan and me. I'd kissed him...again. And I got rejected...again. I was starting to get a little cut up over these pinches of denial. The first time, I didn't expect him to respond. I would've been shocked if he had, and when I had looked into his eyes, searching for his reaction, I wasn't stunned to find confusion, hurt and anger tangled up together there. The second time, however, I had expected something a little more than him pulling away from me a second time, those same emotions knotting themselves with brand new ones, which was mostly frustration.

"What the fuck gave you the impression I wanted to kiss you?" he said, his voice stiff only to be broken by his ragged breathing. "We're talking about Kenny, Kyle."

I had went to say the three words that had been dwindling inside of me for years, waiting for the moment to burst from my lips to bring everything into the light, to explain everything, to let him in and make him understand. But he turned away and the instant his back was facing me, I knew that I had punched a massive dent in our friendship. It would never truly heal, and that frigging hurt. It stung so badly, and the fear swung to and fro through me. I wanted to let him know, I wanted him to understand...he just discarded my feelings like they were blatant lies.

It had taken every ounce of strength within me not to get in contact with him. So many times I typed out e-mails and texts, long ones full of apologies and explanations that I swore would be expanded in person. The moment my eyes roamed over what I had just written, I cancelled the message, knowing it just wasn't enough. I knew Stan needed time; he was the kinda person who didn't like being confronted when he was feeling negative emotions. He'd rather deal with it by himself rather than share. When he and Wendy had broken up, he didn't answer any of my calls and it made me feel like a shitty friend, like I was useless to him, though when I saw him next he told me that he couldn't stand ruining other people's days and taking up their time by complaining about things that were out of his control.

I guess this was one of those moments, but now I was standing outside the school, watching countless students drag themselves past me, each whining about one thing or another. None of them really paid me any heed, and I was way too preoccupied to care. I was peering over countless heads, waiting to see any sign of Stan or Kenny. I dreaded yet anticipated seeing them both; Kenny to see how he was doing, and Stan to see how he was handling what I had done and whether he had quite forgiven me yet. Having two people who would rather avoid you at once is pretty rough.

The bell rung, alerting students that they had approximately two minutes to make their ways to their first lesson of the day, and I reluctantly joined the flood of pupils skidding and yelling on their way to class, stealing glances over my shoulder just in case I saw them. I didn't.

First lesson was gym (I always had it first on week one, and I only enjoyed it for one reason...I got to steal glimpses of Stan getting changed next to me). Although that one good reason was probably non-existent since by then I had assumed Stan wasn't in for whatever reason...I just hoped it wasn't me. I was usually first there to gym 'cos Stan and I would stand there scratching out fake notes from our parents explaining why we had no kit, despite the fact Miss Maxine barely ever believed us and just gave us those left in the lost-and-found box kept in the P.E staffroom. To my surprise, I wasn't the first one there. Stan was.

Snow was caught in his thick, jet hair, his hands tucked deep into his jacket pockets as per usual, and his usual blue jeans hanging and hugging in all the right places, his dark blue eyes stuck on the wall. He looked so handsome...that was the thing about Stan Marsh. He was handsome even though boys our age were usually classed as 'hot' or 'cute'. Those two words did not sit on him right and the only one I could think of was handsome. That same fogginess drifted over my brain and I didn't want to think any more. I didn't want to worry and I didn't want to reconsider or think twice. I just wanted him, and I didn't want to second guess myself anymore. It did me no good.

Stan selected the perfect moment to meet my gaze and pinkness immediately brushed along his cheeks. I was highly aware of every slight movement he made, reading every twitch of his jaw, every shuffle of his feet, every gulp he made that made his Adam's apple bounce in his throat.

"K-Kyle..." he spluttered, and I crossed over to him, crushing my lips to his own.

Of course, Stan reacted how I thought he would. His hands instantly leapt to my shoulders and they began to push but I was ready. I began to pull and this deepened our kiss even more. My eyes remained wide open, staring into his misty blue eyes that were, at first, alarmed but then began to dim into a calmer shade as I ran my tongue along his bottom lip tentatively. People cave to their feelings, to how things feel, and then they don't think anymore. Stan wasn't thinking. He wasn't wondering about Kenny, he wasn't concerned about being caught, he wasn't even battling with the concept of being gay and kissing someone of the same sex. He rode the feelings and began to clutch at me, back hitching as I ran my hands up it.

We backed into the changing rooms, knowing the class would first have an assembly with the teachers, giving us enough alone time to explore and experiment. Stan fully supported being pushed against the wall; I was enabled to curiously run my hands over him. Everything was better than I had first imagined. I stroked his cheeks first, knowing he was ticklish there and then trickled down his neck earning a moan here, a groan when I skipped over his entire torso and touching a rather sensitive area of his that was covered by his pants. His eyes widened and, for a second, I wondered if I had pushed him too far but he bucked his hips as if begging me to go further. I complied.

Not for a millisecond did I forget who I was doing this to. This was Stan Marsh, and that fact sent shocks of electricity through me, rumbling inside of me and driving me on further. I wanted all of him, every inch, every layer of him, and every aspect. Unzipping his jeans I helped myself to what was beneath. His high-pitched moans and mewls drove me on further, squeezing his hips and denying them the ability to shift as I licked and nibbled softly. Stan cried out as I took him in my mouth and I smiled to myself, starting to suck. Straight away his hands went to my hair, running through it and pulling my head closer. His knees were going week and I had to keep a hold of his violently shaking legs that threatened to give way under him at any moment. It wasn't long before he came and I wrinkled my nose a little at the taste. I suppose not everything is as sweet and delicious as you expect it to be.

I straightened up and pressed my lips against his again, pressing up against him with one hand on his hip and the other knotting the back of his hair in my fingers. He hissed as I gave a tiny tug and I immediately made up for it by kissing his neck over and over, savouring the sounds my mouth made against his skin.

_**Sorry about the serious lack of updates and what happened in this chapter ^^; It was difficult to write about but it was what I had intentioned for the story and I couldn't work around it without changing the entire plot. Sorry to Ami who is probably shaking her fist at the screen right now. Let's just pretend for the entire Kyle POV that it was an imposter Stan Marsh! Plan ;] **_

_**Please review! It puts food on our table LOL **_


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